


As Many As the Stars, When the Night Is Still

by DangersUntoldHardshipsUnnumbered



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/F, Gladiators, OT3, Roman AU, female warriors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-03-20 05:06:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13710456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangersUntoldHardshipsUnnumbered/pseuds/DangersUntoldHardshipsUnnumbered
Summary: Alexandra, current champion of the Roman arena, and her lover, former champion Astra, have been together for some time now, working for the day when they will buy their freedom and move back to Alexandra's home in Greece.Their love is protected by the domina, Cat, until the young Empress Margarita Augusta (Maggie) takes an interest in them that she cannot seem to shake.Featuring guest appearances by the Roman Legion and a trio of meddling goddesses.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [We Who Are About to Die](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11407044) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



Alexandra the Greek was the finest champion that Rome had seen in quite some time.

She was quick and fierce, imbued with the light of the gods, they said.  She wielded a sword that had been blessed by Bellona.  And, it was known among those who frequented the arena regularly, she fought for the love of a woman who was every bit as fierce as she. 

Romans with longer memories than most recalled her lover’s own stint in the arena some years before, and even recognized that the sword she wielded was the same one, blessed by Bellona herself, they said, given as gift by a domina who did not wish her prized fighter to lose.  The truth, as it usually is, had a few more layers than that.  But nevertheless, it is where we begin our tale: in Rome, before the days of the gladiator rebellion, when the city was wealthy and sat at the center of the world.

Alexandra the Greek had not yet won her freedom.  Her lover remained a body slave to her domina, Cat, mostly by choice, for though she had won her freedom, she had been taken by Rome so very young that she had no idea what to do with it.  Astra of Gaul had grown up alongside Cat and they were family in most of the ways that mattered.  Cat found her counsel indispensable and trusted her with the most delicate matters of her business.  She even allowed her servant the room to spend time with her lover, the champion, in the evenings.  And out of respect for the love they shared, she always refused those Roman patricians who would beg an evening to bed her fiery Greek gladiator.  “Send Cassius my regrets,” she would tell her courier, “but Alexandra the Greek is already committed for the evening.”

On this particular evening, the golden-haired domina was reclining on a couch in her peristylium, the colonnaded garden overlooking the courtyard of the lanista behind her villa.  The gladiator training school that she managed in her young son’s stead had been in this family for generations, but she had whipped it into a small but formidable force that produced multiple champions.  And two of them were desperately in love.

“So,” the Empress mused, toying with some creeping ivy as she gazed down at the courtyard.  Alexandra the Greek was sparring with her lover, and their grace and ferocity was hypnotic.  “Do you suppose I might have an evening with your Greek tonight?”

Cat flicked a yellow flower petal off of her stola, and sighed.  “I’m afraid, your Imperial Majesty, that the Greek is already committed for this evening.”  

“Hm.”  Empress Margarita Augusta watched them as they continued, until the Greek knocked the other woman down, holding her weapon aloft, knee pinned against her chest.  Her breath caught in her throat.  “Isn’t that your body slave, Astra, who trains with her now?”

Cat feigned disinterest.  “I suppose it is.  They train together often.”

And then the Empress observed as the two grinned at each other, and the Greek tossed her weapon aside, and leaned down and kissed Astra with a tenderness that was unexpected.  “And is it your Astra that the Greek is committed to this evening?”

Cat sighed.  “It is, your Imperial Majesty.”

The Empress remained quiet a moment more, watching as Alexandra stood, and pulled Astra to her feet, and they spoke softly to one another for a moment, foreheads touching.  They kissed again, and again, so tenderly, and then took up their weapons again.  The Empress shook her head in wonder.  “And what of tomorrow evening?”

“I am afraid she is also committed then.”

She watched them tear into each other again, seeming to spare no effort as they sparred, watching their sweat-slicked shoulders and arms flexing as they joyfully clashed again and again.  “Is she committed to your Astra every night, then?”

“Just so,” Cat replied.  She waved to one of her servants to refill the Empress’s cups.  “But I have many fine warriors you might enjoy just as much."

“Ah,” the Empress replied, “but none are champions, are they?"

Wine and other women were not sufficient distractions.  Cat was growing frustrated.  She knew Astra would not want this.  “No, but they are stronger, or perhaps more exotic, and might be to your liking.”

The Empress paused, sipping at her wine while she watched for several moments more, without a word.  She was fascinated with the manner in which they seemed to slip between furious combat and passion of a more gentle kind.  “I could simply command it, you know.  I am not Drusilla of the Julii, to be brushed aside at your whim.”

“Of course not,” Cat replied with a tight smile.  “But they are precious to one another, and I am fond of my Astra, as she has been with me since we were both girls.  I would prefer not to do such things without her consent.”

Empress Margarita nodded, smirking a little.  She had known Cat for some time, and knew that beneath her brusque and business-oriented veneer lay a rather sentimental heart.  “Their passion is … quite interesting.  I would be interested to see how they make love to one another.”  She turned away from the tableau in the courtyard below.  “Do you imagine she would consent to that?  Or would you have to command it?”

Cat understood that she was cornered.  The Empress had made a small concession, but it was nevertheless a magnanimous one.  “So you would only observe?” she pressed.

The young Empress smiled, her dusky face alight already with the thrill at the prospect.  “Only that, unless they would have otherwise.”

“And if I refuse?”

The look came, reproachful through black-rimmed eyes.  “Then I would have to command you to give me the Greek.  And you and I are friends, Cat.  I would not wish to do that.”

 

Cat sighed.  “I shall arrange it.  Thank you, Imperial Majesty, for your generosity.”

  
  
  


**

  
  


_ Bellona has a wheat pancake in her hand, which she has folded in two.  The dates and honey are spilling out one end as she tries to devour it all in one go.  Venus sits beside her, delicately tearing pieces off and popping them in her mouth with her fingers.   _

_ “How can you be so calm?” Bellona demands, as the pancake tears open and spills its sticky contents back onto the plate in front of her.  “They are in love!  Why did you not move the Empress’s heart to accept some other warrior?” _

_ “I have an idea,” is all Venus will say.   _

_ “But what?” _

_ Venus smiles, that sly, gentle smile that Bellona knows is usually trouble.  But usually the sort of trouble she will end up enjoying once it stops frustrating her.  Venus is entirely too coy about her plans sometimes.  “You will see, my love.  You will see.” _

_ As she says this, the curtains behind them rustle and Minerva enters, looking scandalized.  She often looks like this, so the two goddesses pay it no particular mind.  “Pancakes?” she demands.  “At this hour?” _

_ “There is never a bad time for pancakes,” Bellona grumbles, using the point of her knife to retrieve the explosion of sticky dates. _

_ “One cannot innovate on an empty stomach,” Venus replies. _

_ “Innovate?” Minerva responds.  “That is my job, and you know it.” _

_ “Ah,” Venus replies, delicately tearing off another bit of pancake and popping into her ruby mouth, “but not in matters of love.  Then, clearly, it is my job.” _

_ Minerva glares at her, then at Bellona.  “What is she on about?” she demands. _

_ Bellona shrugs, and slips the knife blade into her mouth.  When it emerges, all the dates are gone.  “I’ve no idea.  Best not to interrogate her too much.” _

_ “Watch,” Venus says, sliding over to make room for Minerva.  “I believe you will find this interesting.” _

  
  


**

  
  


Astra woke in the night, tangled in Alexandra’s strong, bronze limbs.  Her beloved slept soundly, the hush of her breath striking warm on Astra’s chest.  They had been two years together now, and the embers of their passion were none the cooler for the passage of time.  They prayed to the same gods, under different names, and had no dispute that their union had been willed by those divine forces.  They made love with the weight of the stars upon their backs, sweetly and ever conscious of the hurrying of time.

She was thirsty.  There was water in a pitcher on a table by the window but the evening was warm, and she rather wished for something cooler, so she slipped into a robe and made her way to the well outside of the kitchen.  As she drew fresh water for her pitcher, she heard her domina’s voice behind her.

“How unlike you to have trouble sleeping on a night when Alexandra is with you.”

Astra flushed, which she hoped Cat would not see in the moonlight.  “She has made me thirsty.”

Cat smirked.  “I do not doubt it, old friend.  But then, you are ever thirsty, are you not?”

Astra shook her head, smiling.  “You will never know.”  She moved to pass her, and move back into the wings that led to her chamber, but Cat lingered.  They were not done, it appeared.  She gave Cat a quizzical glance.  “Domina?  Did you require something of me?”

Cat nodded.  “I am afraid so.  Her Imperial Majesty, Margarita Augusta, has requested a night with your champion.”

Astra’s heart sank.  She knew that Cat had been refusing the requests of various nobles, at her own expense, for it was common that nobles would pay a good price to bed a champion.  “And you could not refuse,” she finished, crestfallen.

“Well, not entirely.”

Astra studied her domina’s face.  “What does it mean, not entirely?”

“Well…”  Cat’s voice became businesslike, and Astra’s heart sank further.  It was never good when she took this tone between them.  “...she has agreed, after watching the two of you sparring in the manner that you do, that she would… settle for watching you make love to one another with no further involvement.”  And then after an awkward pause, she added, “I am sorry, old friend.  If I refused her that, she would have simply commanded that I give her Alexandra.”

Astra hesitated.  “Alexandra will not like it.”

Cat snorted.  “I am sure, but please make her see the value of not striking the Empress instead of doing as she wishes.”

Astra smirked a little.  It was true, her Alexandra had a wild, reckless streak.  When Alexandra had first sold herself into bond at the lanista, she had struck J’onn the Berber square in the jaw during training, and Astra had to drag her away to keep her from getting more than just the sense beaten out of her.

Cat took Astra by the shoulder for a moment and looked up at her.  Her eyes were liquid in the summer dark.  “I truly am sorry, Astra.  This was the price of you not choosing freedom when you could have had it.”

Astra sighed.  “Even a free woman is subject to Imperial whims, domina.”  

Cat made a small sound of acknowledgment.  “Just so,” she sighed with some resignation.  Astra walked back to her cubiculum, wondering how she was going to explain the situation to her Alexandra.

  
  


***

  
  


_ Minerva has resigned herself to eating a pancake.  “When in Rome,” she sighs. _

_ “We are technically not in Rome,” Bellona points out, flicking a date pit at her. _

_ “Not the point,” Minerva snaps back.  She observes for a moment.  “It was a clever arrangement that the domina made.  The champion will not have to make love to another.  Still, Venus, I do not understand your plan.  Bellona told me all about what you two went through to bring those two together.  It seems you are now squandering your work.” _

_ Venus merely smiles.  “Are you not meant to be the goddess of strategy?” _

_ Minerva stands up to excuse herself.  “I am.  And my strategy is to excuse myself.  I cannot watch you play havoc with some poor lovers for your own amusement.” _

_ “You might want to stay,” Venus singsongs.   _

_ “They are quite beautiful together,” Bellona adds, pouring herself some wine.  “You can leave before the misery starts.” _

_ “Just so, my love,” Venus agrees.  “What say you, Minerva?  It is truly something rare and beautiful, these two lovers together.  They are particularly… intense.” _

_ “I don’t know…” Minerva hedges, inching toward the door, but not turning her back. “I really have other things to attend to.” _

_ But she doesn’t leave. _


	2. Chapter 2

The young Empress gazed across the latrunculi board, grinning.  “Your gambit is about to fail, James.”

The handsome, bronze-skinned legate of the two best legions of the Roman army grinned back at her.  He moved a stone, defending the man he had placed, attempting to divide her army.  “The Empress is always right.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to let me win,” she jested, pressing two more stones forward to attack his wedge from the side.  “This tactic did not work for Pompey at Pharsallus, and you know it.”

“I wasn’t there, your Imperial Majesty.”  Brigands forward, two more squares.

“But I was.”   She was now surrounding his wedge from both east and west.  “The boar’s horn will not work today.  You are overfond of it, I think.”  She gestured for a servant, who re-filled their cups.

“Always a few steps ahead, your Majesty.”

“A woman has to be, if she is to hold the seat of power in the wake of her husband’s death.”

“Just so.”  James drank.  “But the men are with you.”

“Of course they are.  I am one of them.”

James chuckled.  He was one of the few who knew the full measure of Margarita Augusta’s rise.  “You did not get to where you are by beauty alone,” he agreed.

“Although it helped.”  

The Imperial villa outside of the city nestled against the hills of the countryside, surrounded by lemon groves that smelled sweet now, in the early summer.  An ocean of stars arched overhead, she could see them through the open ceiling of the atrium.  She often played a few friendly games of latrunculi and drank with the legates of her legions, to keep them loyal and in line.  With various members of her deceased husband’s family squabbling and stabbing each other over who was to succeed him, someone had to keep on with the business of ruling the empire in his stead.  A woman could not technically be a Caesar, but Margarita Augusta would be the first.  She was the first of many things in her life, she suspected, so why not this as well?  And she would be damned if she would turn power over to some sniveling nephew or incompetent uncle.  Let the Senate despise her if they wished – she had the armies.  

“So,” James asked, as move by move he watched her dismantle and surround the lead piece of his wedge, “is the lady of the lanista sending you her Greek champion tonight?”

Margarita smiled, and sipped her wine.  “She is sending me two champions, in fact.”

James looked impressed.  “It is good to be the Caesar, I see.”

“Technically, I am not a Caesar,” she replied, and winked.  “And yes, it is.”

Her manservant, Winn, entered then, and announced, “The champions from the lanista are here, your Imperial Majesty.”

James rose. “I suppose I shall leave you to it… Caesar.”  

They shared a wicked smile as he left.

  


***

 

_“What does she mean, she is one of the men?” Bellona demands.  “She does not look like one of the men to me.”_

_“I think it not what we think,” Minerva guesses.  “Are the two champions going to make love soon?  I have things to do, you know.”_

_Bellona tugs at Minerva’s robes.  “Oh, be patient.  The politicians will scheme well enough while you are gone.  It is worth the wait.  Trust me.”_

_Venus summons some more wine for the three.  “It is only the beginning, my darlings.”_

_Minerva is growing cross, but accepts the wine.  “I still do not see your strategy.  And I do not know what your Empress means by her words.  Why do I need to watch a couple of humans make love, anyway?  It is not my job.”_

_Venus.  “Art, my dear.  Art.”_

  


**

  


Cat had arranged for Astra and Alex to be bathed, perfumed, and massaged, and to be given fresh, clean robes before sending them out on horses to the Empress at her country villa.  “You two will not run off, of course,” she admonished them.  She sent a half dozen men to accompany them.

“We could easily defeat them,” Alexandra said softly to Astra as they rode beside each other.

“But we will not,” Astra replied softly. “Besides, what if we did?  Then what?”

“You are too much in need of Cat’s favor,” Alexandra grumbled.  

“She is my only family.”

“Not anymore,” Alexandra whispered back, and turned in the saddle to gaze at her lover.  “Now I am your family, too, Astra, my beautiful star.”

“Yes.”  Astra cast her eyes down at the nodding grasses on either side of the beaten dirt road.  “And the Empress can never take that from us.”

They arrived at the villa as the moon was rising, and they were shown in by a pretty young catamite of the sort that Astra knew was probably the favorite of all the other manservants.  The young Empress waited in the atrium for them, already standing when they entered.  Astra had seen her many times, but never this close, and never had she been the subject of her direct interest.  She looked younger than Astra had thought on previous occasions. She was draped in a stola of red sea-silk and wore jewels around her neck and wrists.  She was beautiful, her gaze was focused and penetrating, and when she greeted them with a warm smile, Astra was surprised at how it lit her entire being.

“Thank you,” she said, “for being so willing to indulge me.”

Astra sank to one knee, and tugged at Alexandra to do the same.  “Your Imperial Majesty.”

Margarita Augusta moved closer and gently touched their shoulders.  “There is no need for such formality this evening.  You may rise and follow me.  I have prepared a very comfortable place, which I hope is to your liking.  You shall have whatever you request.”

They followed her through the wings, and Astra could not help watching her back and bare shoulders as they walked.  She was remarkably fit for a woman of noble birth.  She wondered what secrets lay beneath the smooth, honey-brown skin.  

“I like it here,” the Empress went on, “a little ways from all the demands of Rome.  The noise, the stink, the constant pleadings of nobles–”

“The Senators?” Astra interjected wryly.

The Empress stopped and turned to her.  “Just so.  Your domina must have told you, they are not fond of me.”

She led them to a large room, lit with torches, at the far end of which was a large, soft bed with sumptuous fulcra at the head and foot, with ornate bronze castings of all the gods.  More pillows were piled upon it than Astra had ever seen in one place.  The mattress looked stuffed with feathers, and silken-looking furs were draped across it.

Margarita Augusta dismissed her servants and poured wine for them herself.  Astra was struck by this, as even Cat rarely poured her own wine.  She placed the cups in their hands.  “Please, drink.  Be comfortable.  I shall trouble you no more unless it is to see to anything you might need.”

And she retreated to the shadows, reclining on a small couch while Astra sat with Alexandra in the bed, and they drank their fill of wine.  After a time, Astra took Alexandra’s face between her hands and murmured, “My love, I am hungry for you.  I do not care if she watches us.”

Alexandra kissed her, softly, deeply, and the spark between them was instant.  They undressed each other in the soft, yellow light, tenderly, lovingly, and at the sight of Alexandra’s body, the cut of her thigh and hip, the roundness of her breasts, she forgot that there was anyone else in the room.  She burned to worship and shower affection on that body, and fill it with the desire that overflowed her.

Their tenderness melted away, turned into passion that urged them into each other, and their kisses grew rougher.  Their lust flowed wet against each other’s thighs, and their sweat made them glisten in the soft, yellow light.  They broke, called for water, which was brought by the Empress herself.  They drank, and then resumed.  Astra trailed a wine-soaked finger down Alexandra’s breastbone and then licked the taste of it away.  It was very, very fine wine.

Astra could not say how many times they came to climax in each other’s arms, or with their fingers buried in one another, or how many times her Alexandra tasted every inch of her skin before settling between her thighs to lick her into ecstasy.  Again and again, they drew each other to trembling pleasure, their fingers scraping down each other’s backs, tangling in each other’s hair.  And again and again, they declared their love for each other.  Again and again, they whispered their belonging.

Finally, they lay spent.  Margarita Augusta emerged, her deep-dimpled smile radiant.  “Wonderful,” she sighed with great approval.  “Magnificent.  Your domina will be well rewarded for the performance you have given me.”

“It was not a performance,” Alex responded in a tone that would be surly if she had had more energy.  “It is simply how we make love.”

The Empress was surprised.  “All the time?”

“More or less, yes,” Astra yawned.

The Empress shook her head in wonder.  “Is there no way you will consent to including me?”

Astra hesitated.

The Empress smiled and nodded.  “I see.  Then I must insist you come as my guests and repeat this evening’s performance.  I will see to your every need.  If you have any wishes, they will be granted.”

Alexandra pulled a coverlet over herself and tossed one arm over her sleepy face.  “I would like an orange,” she said, only half-seriously, but the Empress rang a bell and in a few moments, a plate with an orange, peeled and quartered, was set upon the table by the bed.

“Do you see?  Every comfort you wish for.”

“I see, Your Imperial Majesty.”

Margarita waved.  “You may address me in these moments –and only in these moments– as Margarita.”

  


**

 

_“They were magnificent,” Bellona says breathlessly, tossing her sword aside.  Watching their two favorites together always puts her in a mood and she is more than ready now to make love.  She slides closer to Venus and draws her into a kiss. It goes on for several moments.  Minerva, who is sitting on the other side of Venus, flushed and looking very unsure of herself, clears her throat, but there is no visible end to the kisses._

_When she observes Bellona’s hand slip inside Venus’s robe, she leaps up.  “I suppose I shall… I shall go…” and she begins to back out of the room._

_“No, no,” Venus purrs, between kisses, “why don’t you stay and watch?  Bellona, you don’t mind, do you?”_

_Bellona is too aroused to care much what else happens.  “Mm,” she says, continuing with her passionate kisses._

_“I… I really should not…”  Minerva says awkwardly.  But she does not leave._

 


	3. Chapter 3

Margarita Augusta spoke before the Senate in the days following her first encounter with Alexandra and Astra.  She gave them many soothing words, promising that as soon as a suitable successor was found for her husband, that she would gladly stand aside, but that in the meantime, she had ruled beside Augustus and was a partner in all his greatest works, so who better than she to retain the careful stewardship of his vision until a successor was chosen?

Naturally, Maximus, Lord of Ravenna and the people’s tribune, had a number of ideas for who better, but she brushed him aside.  Publicly, she was polite and winsome, gracing them with her deep-dimpled smiles.  Privately, she promised him she would have a pair of legionaries cut off his hands and nail them to the door of the Senate if he refused her authority.

This was the trick with handling the Senate: multiple prongs of attack.  Some needed flattery, like Cicero.  Some needed threats, like Maximus.  Some could be manipulated if you played upon their jealousy, like Polonius.  And always, always, one had to multiple strategies played out in one’s mind in case the board did not unfold in one’s favor.

She did not know how long she would be able to hold onto power.   She supposed if she were cunning, it could end in a favorable marriage, if the successor did not already have a wife.  It was an inconvenience that she had not managed to produce an heir before Augustus’s untimely end, and his will was vague.  She had seized upon some language in it that appeared to grant her interim powers.  The game now was to stretch that interim as long as possible.

And of course, she always had another gambit ready.

  
  


***

 

_ “She is under quite a lot of pressure,” Bellona remarks.   _

_ Venus nods.  “Yes.  But she is very, very good.” _

_ They sit with fingers laced together, watching Margarita Augusta laying her plans: for herself, for Rome, and indeed, for Alexandra and Astra.  She has summoned the couple to her villa again, and takes great delight in them.   _

_ “They calm her somehow,” Bellona muses.  “Despite arousing her, they soothe her as well.” _

_ The curtains rustle and Minerva enters.  She is hesitant and seems ill at ease.  “I wondered if you were having pancakes,” she says after a moment of awkwardly trying to peer over their shoulders. _

_ “No you didn’t,” Venus answers sweetly.  “You want to know if the humans are making love again.  They are.  You may stay if you wish.” _

_ “I really shouldn’t.” _

_ Venus and Bellona slide over.   _

_ Minerva is thoughtful.  “She is a cunning planner, this Empress.  Very much after my own inclination.” _

_ “Do you now see what I am trying to do?”  Venus asks.  She summons a pancake and passes it to Minerva, who gratefully takes it and begins to eat.   _

_ “I… I am not sure.” _

  
  


**

  
  


Alexandra had doubts about this arrangement with the Empress.  It was indeed a great pleasure to make love in a big, soft bed, and to be able to ask for anything at all and have it served to them by the Empress herself.  The wine was excellent, the fruit was fresh, the water was cool and sometimes even had ice in it.  Margarita noticed Alexandra eyeing a beautiful knife that she had displayed, the handle of which was inlaid with mother of pearl, and gifted it to her.  She offered them perfumes, escorted them to her private baths, and brought every manner of comfort they might desire.  

But stil.  It was strange.  It was strange to know she was watching.  It was strange to not understand what she wanted from them or why this was continuing.  She was reluctant to say that she wished Cat would refuse, because the comforts were… well, quite enjoyable.  Their small bed in Astra’s room always felt a bit cramped after they had been to the villa.  It was always a bit disappointing realizing that when they were done, one of them was going to have to get up and retrieve the covers from the floor; at the villa, Margarita was there to cover them, so that they did not have to leave each other’s arms.

“Why do you think she wants to continue this?” Alex asked Astra one night, after they had been to the villa for perhaps the fourth time.  “We have not said we will include her.”   


Astra waved a hand.  “Perhaps she hopes we will change our minds.”  She kissed Alexandra softly then.  “Perhaps we are so beautiful that it is enough for her.”

“Well.  Perhaps  _ you _ are,” Alexandra replied, and they kissed again.  

“She  _ is _ beautiful,” Astra mused, her eyes dancing a little.  “Perhaps we should invite her in after all.”

Alexandra reached down and pinched Astra’s backside.  “You jest!”  

Astra nodded, grinning, and they wrestled each other for a moment, with laughing and rough kisses, until they settled into one another again.

“She is beautiful,” Alexandra agreed.  “She is not as I had thought an Empress would be.”

“How?”

“Young.  And she serves us herself.  That is… surprising.”

“Yes, it struck me, also.  I have been to bed with women of the higher orders.  They expect you to do everything for them.  I suppose it is because that is what their husbands expect of them.  It must be a relief that someone else might wait upon their desires for a change.”

Alexandra had not considered that Astra had ever been given out to service noble women.  “Cat forced you to do this?”

Astra shook her head.  “She did not force me.  I wanted to experience it.  I only asked that she did not send me out to the men, and she did not.  It was… I do not regret it.  I pitied those women.  Some were very beautiful and refined.  But I could tell they were not treated well by their husbands.”

Alexandra traced her fingers down Astra’s spine.  “And you fucked them properly, did you?”  She was strangely fascinated by this, and possibly a little aroused.

Astra nodded, smiling faintly.  “I would like to think so.  I did not give them what I give you –nobody has ever gotten that– but I would like to say they were given something better than they were accustomed to.”

Alexandra raked her fingernails up Astra’s back and enjoyed the little intake of breath it created in her.  “You mean to tell me you give me your best every time?”

“Every time, my love.  There has never been another like you.  I cannot imagine that there ever will be.”

  
  


**

  
  


_ Minerva enters with a small breath of wind and a rustle of curtains.  Venus and Bellona are sitting close, watching their humans.  _

_ “I wonder if you have any grapes, Venus?” she says.  She tries unsubtly to look over their shoulders. _

_ Venus does not even look up.  “No, Minerva, they are not making love now.  But you may sit.”  She slides over, and summons a bowl of grapes. _

_ Minerva still has the good grace to be embarrassed that her intentions are so transparent. She begins munching thoughtfully on a grape.  “You know,” she says, “sometimes, the boar’s horn is not such a bad gambit.  It lacks subtlety, but is effective.  Divide your adversary, and then place yourself between the two flanks.” _

_ “We are speaking of love, not goring an animal,” Venus scolds. _

_ But Bellona understands.  She becomes excited.  “Yes!  Divide and conquer!  Perhaps you are not so bad after all, Minerva.”  She almost knocks Minerva’s wine from her hand. _

_ Minerva ignores the dig and successfully defends her drink.  “I am only saying, Venus, that if I understand your intentions, that perhaps Margarita Augusta would be wise to…”  She pauses. _

_ “Place herself between their flanks?” Venus finishes with a little smirk. _

_ Minerva blushes.  “Well, I suppose so, yes.” _ _   
_

_ Bellona chortles but says nothing.   _

  
  


**

  
  


“Am I to understand that you are requesting only Astra’s company?”

“Correct.”

“Your Imperial Majesty, my body slave is not available for you to bed at this time unless she expressly wishes it.  I understood us to have agreed upon this.”  Cat was feeling rather firm on this subject.  She was in no position to refuse the Empress an audience with them as a couple, but–

Margarita Augusta gave her a benevolent smile.  “Ah, Cat of the Grantii, I am as good as my word.  No, I do not seek her time with the intent to bed her.  She has made clear that she only belongs to your Greek.  I will pay handsomely for her time, of course.  But, I am interested only in her company.”

“Company,” Cat repeated, incredulous.

The young Empress nodded.  “Indeed.  Only some wine, some conversation, perhaps a friendly game of lantrunculi, if she plays.”

“She does.”  Cat frowned.  “But to what end?”

“Their passion for one another captivates me.  I wish to learn more.  Have you never watched them together?”

Cat shook her head.  “Astra is more family than slave to me, Imperial Majesty.”

Margarita smiled sweetly.  Gods be damned, Cat thought with irritation.  The Empress’s charm was magnetic.  “You are a soft-hearted soul beneath all of that business acumen.” 

“It hurts me not. I have done well for myself.” 

“For a drover’s daughter, indeed you have.”  Margarita Augusta winked then.

Cat smirked.  “And for a sawyer’s daughter, to be Empress, I would say you have also done well.  Someday you will tell me your secret?”

Margarita laughed.  “Same as yours, Cat.  Advantageous marriages to men I did not particularly love.  And enough cunning to know how to seize those advantages.”

Cat smiled at her.  Margarita Augusta was not used to being told she could not have something, she thought.  No doubt it was that more than anything which piqued her interest in Astra and Alexandra.  The young Empress clearly intended to woo her charges separately.  Well, let her have at it.  She would pay for the privilege in the meantime.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Bellona has thrust her knife point-down into the table and is glaring at Venus. _

_ “Why?  Why do you allow her to separate them?” _

_ Venus is much too amused for Bellona’s liking.   _

_ “This is not the worst, my love.  You must get to know the Empress.  Minerva understands this strategy, don’t you, Minerva?” _

_ Minerva throws up her hands, waving them anxiously.  “Oh, don’t you drag me in between you.” _

_ “Why not?” Venus wonders aloud.  “That sounds interesting, don’t you think?” _

_ Minerva is scowling and grumbling something about “what part of virgin goddess did you not understand” and Bellona is ready to do something angry, but she has no idea what. _

_ “Just watch.  It will be for the best.  This is not so inelegant as the boar’s horn.” _

_ Minerva is scandalized.  Bellona is annoyed.  But, neither of them can bring themselves to leave. _

  
  


***

  
  


Margarita Augusta poured the wine, just as she did on occasions when Alexandra and Astra were there together.  Astra could not help her curiosity.

“I am told,” said the Empress, “that you play latrunculi.”

“I do.”

She looked especially fetching this evening, Astra thought; her hair was simple, she was not draped in so many jewels and silks.  She was barefoot, and wore little makeup, only a bit of red on her lips, made from roses brought back from Brittany.  She sat across from Astra at the small table in her chambers, and distributed the stones for their game.  They laid their pieces out, conversing and drinking as they chose their positions.

Astra was impatient.  “I wonder why you have asked me here, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“To drink wine, and talk, and play a few games.”

“Only that?”

Margarita smiled at her incredulity.  “Yes, only that.  I am sure you must wonder why I send for you and your Greek again and again.”

Astra nodded slowly, gazing at her thoughtfully.  “It had crossed my mind.”

Margarita took her time replying.  She poured two cups of wine, smiling in that winsome way that Astra had come to recognize.  “Do you know Catullus?” she asked finally, as she handed a cup to Astra.

“He has dined with my domina on occasion.  She despises him.”

Margarita laughed softly.  “I imagine she does.  But do you know his work?”

Astra shrugged.  “Some of it.”

Margarita nodded.  “There is one that I confess reminds me of how you and your Alexandra love each other.  How Many Kisses… do you know it?”

Astra shook her head.  “I think not.”

Margarita cleared her throat and recited:

_ “Lesbia, you ask how many kisses of yours  
_ _ would be enough and more to satisfy me.  
_ _ As many as the grains of Libyan sand  
_ _ that lie between hot Jupiter’s oracle,  
_ _ at Ammon, in resin-producing Cyrene,  
_ _ and old Battiades sacred tomb:  
_ _ or as many as the stars, when night is still,  
_ _ gazing down on secret human desires:  
_ _ as many of your kisses kissed  
_ _ are enough, and more, for mad Catullus,  
_ _ as can’t be counted by spies  
_ __ nor an evil tongue bewitch us.”

Astra’s heart stirred at this sweet, lurid poetry.  “It is… it is very fine.”

Margarita nodded.  “It is.  I see in you this same hunger for one another.  Such love, such passion.  Such an infinite supply of kisses.  It moves me…”  She placed a hand to her heart.  “...and I am not so easily moved.”

Astra could not help being suspicious of this, but she smiled.  “Have you never seen two women in love before?”

Margarita drank, considering her answer.  “I have,” she finally admitted.  “But none like you.  So I wonder.  How does one come to find such a love?”

Astra turned her attention to the board, looking at Margarita’s chosen opening move.  It was a solid position, versatile, easily changed if the moment demanded it.  She chose her gambit, and began the advance.  “I did not seek it.  I wanted her from the moment I saw her.  I trained her, nurtured her, loved her, and by and by she came to love me in equal measure.  We saw and recognized each other’s fire.  Some things are simply ordained by the gods.”

“It sounds to me that you wooed her.”

“If I did, it was the accidental result of loving her.”

Margarita seemed amused by this.  She moved her brigands.  Astra was surprised that she would go with so aggressive a tactic as the boar’s horn, and adjusted her defenses accordingly.

A moment later, Astra came back with another question.  “Do you wish to be loved in the same way?”

Margarita’s smile, still winsome, looked sadder by a half shade, for just a moment.  “I had not thought it existed.  You have proven me wrong.”

Astra felt the instinctive wave of the pity that she had felt for those other noble women years ago.  She pushed it down.  An Empress needed no pity, least of all from a slave.  She watched Margarita’s boar’s horn suddenly fracture into separate flanks.  It was not what Astra had assumed.  Fortunately, she still had a counter move left.  

“I hope that I continue to surprise, Imperial Majesty.”

Margarita pressed forward on the board and pinioned Astra’s lead piece between two of her own ordinari.  “You have yet to disappoint.  Allegatus!” And she turned Astra’s piece over.

Astra smiled and advanced one stone, by which she pinioned Margarita’s two flank leads.  It was a suicide; she was walking her piece into allegatus but simultaneously managing to pin Margarita’s two lead pieces.

Margarita laughed with delight. “You are wonderful!”

Astra smirked.  “Not for nothing do the old men of the arena call me General.”

They played and laughed and drank until the moon was high.  Margarita recited more Catullus, eyes wistful in the evening’s light.  She made no move to lay a hand upon Astra.  But Astra left that night with a strange itch in her mind, one that she would have trouble describing if she tried. She went home and made sweet, desperate love to her Alexandra, unsettled by the manner in which she found herself aflame.  

  
  


**

 

_ “Well, at least she went home and made love to Alexandra,” Bellona says grumpily.  _

_ “It was particularly sweet and desperate, don’t you think?” Venus replies, seeming to relish each phase of whatever exactly her mad plan is. _

_ “It was,” sighs Minerva. _

_ But Bellona is not so easily pacified.  When Venus moves to stroke her face, Bellona swats her hand away.  “My love, you have made me too worried for them, I cannot find the mood to make love now.” _

_ Venus sighs and shakes her head.  She turns to Minerva.  Minerva jumps up.  “Oh, don’t you dare look at me.  I’m leaving!” _

_ Venus sighs.  This is possibly the best idea she has had in centuries and nobody is the least bit excited.   _


	5. Chapter 5

Alexandra kissed Astra goodbye, long and slow.  She was being excused from training for the afternoon for the purpose of joining the Empress on a hunt.  

“Do not let her seduce you while you are away from me,” Astra said, and her eyes danced.

“You are not serious.”  Alexandra kissed her again, harder this time, and went on her way.  

Alexandra was surprised to arrive at the villa and find the young Empress wearing a loose tunic belted with leather.  She wore a knife and a hand and a half sword in her belt.  Her bare arms, she noticed, looked surprisingly strong.  She had a longbow slung across her back.  She looked quite different from the other times that Alexandra had seen her.  

It was, of course, not unheard of for Roman women to sometimes accompany their husbands or brothers on a hunt, but it was all a social performance.  In an agrarian society such as this, hunting was either a military training or a display of status.  So, Alexandra had not expected to see Margarita Augusta so outfitted.  She supposed she had expected that the actual hunting would be left to a few legionaries while she and Margarita sat on their horses and talked about whatever it was that Empresses talked to gladiators about.  She had not expected to find the young Empress so simply dressed and displaying arms that looked as if they had spent some time drawing a bow string.

The legionaries rode some several paces back.  “I have commanded that they give us room so that we may speak freely,” Margarita said as they rode out toward the forest that bordered the estate.  “Privacy is hard to come by when one is an Empress.”

Alexandra nodded.  “It must be a pleasant problem to have.”

“Not always.”

“Then why do you hold onto your power?” Alexandra probed.

Margarita smiled.  “What in the world is my alternative?”

Alexandra understood this, she thought.  That there was an element of the devil one knows, an element of not wanting to give up those familiar advantages for unknown disadvantages.  “Such thinking is not so different to the manner that one must think in during a live combat situation.”

“Ruling is nothing if not live combat,” Margarita replied, and her smile was so amused, so knowing and warm, that Alexandra felt charmed by it and wondered if Astra had also been.

They dismounted and tied their horses to a tree.  “I am surprised,” Alexandra confessed, “that your weapon of choice is a longbow.  I would have guessed a noblewoman to prefer the crossbow.”

Margarita seemed pleased by this observation.  “Crossbows are fine for the battlefield but it seems unsportsmanlike to hunt an animal with such a weapon.  We are already at an advantage, don’t you think?”

Alexandra nodded slowly.  She too had been given a longbow, but no blade.  Margarita still did not trust her entirely, and she was wise not to.  Alexandra supposed she could disarm her, although she was beginning to suspect that it would not be as easy as she might previously have guessed.  They settled into a blind (it was clear that the Empress hunted in these woods often) and sat quietly together while they watched and waited.

Margarita was calm, focused, and had a kind of confidence and ease as she produced an arrow for each of them.  She took up the bow and gave the string a few testing pulls, and Alexandra watched the muscles in her arms and shoulders leap into definition.  This woman was an experienced hunter, both practiced enough and strong enough to draw the bow.  They fell into silence as the sounds of the woods filled her senses; the soft whispering of leaves, the chittering of insects and the birdcalls, the trickle of a stream in the distance, the crunching of small footsteps on the forest floor, mice and frogs and rabbits.

Margarita’s patience was fascinating.  She never became unfocused, never ceased watching the trees and listening.  Alexandra could see small beads of sweat forming on the back of the empress’s neck as the afternoon grew warmer.  Even then, she did not move, not even to wipe them away.  Alexandra decided to focus on watching as well, and soon they became as two statues, sitting together in heightened awareness with senses open, waiting for their kill.

It came eventually, in the form of a very large buck. She saw the slow smile spread across the empress’s face.  Alex gave her an incredulous look as if to say,  _ Truly?  This one? _  But Margarita’s mind was set.  She nodded once, nocked her arrow, soundlessly drew the bow back.  The flex of her shoulders was magnificent.  The fierceness in her dark eyes made her look wild for half a moment as the string vibrated against the air and the arrow whistled forth, striking true and planting itself directly into the buck’s neck.

Margarita jumped up and leapt easily over the branches of their blind.  Alexandra followed.  The buck was still attempting to make an escape, staggering drunkenly as blood spurted from its neck.  Alexandra stopped in her pursuit and nocked an arrow, sending it whistling forth and hearing it land with a meaty thud in the animal’s hindquarter.  She resumed pursuit.

Margarita was just reaching the beast as it was collapsing in the middle of an open glade, stumbling and toppling onto its side with the two arrows sticking from it like pins.  She came upon the empress standing before it, her posture one of absolute raw power.  “Well done, beast,” she was murmuring, and she took the knife from her belt, and knelt beside it as it continued to twitch in what appeared like agony.  “Let me finish you properly.”  And then she gripped the knife, held the buck’s head in place, and neatly slit its throat.  She stood and placed her bloody hands on her hips as the deer expired.  

“Well done, Greek,” she said, a little breathless.

Alexandra nodded.  “I was about to say the same.”  She trudged closer.  “You have some skill, Imperial Majesty.”  Astra had coached her to use the honorifics at all times.  “And you do not shrink from the sight of blood.”

“I would not last very long as a ruler if I did.”

Alexandra smirked.  “Just so, Imperial Majesty.”  She glanced down at the buck.  “Shall we dress it, then?”

Margarita shook her head.  “No, the legionaries will take care of that.  I need to go to the stream and clean myself.”

  
  


**

 

_ Bellona is on her feet now.  “She is exceptional!” she cried.   _

_ Venus is pleased.  “This is what I have been saying, my love.  She is quite something.” _

_ “And look, she carries a hand and a half sword like mine!” _

_ “Yes, my love.” _

_ “But you cannot separate Astra and Alexandra.” _

_ Venus sighed.  “That is not my intent.” _

_ Bellona is confused by this and pounds the table with her fist.  “What, then?” _

_ The curtains rustle and Minerva enters.  Venus seizes her hand.  “Minerva, you understand, do you not?” _

_ Minerva glanced between them.  “I understand what?” _

_ “My plan with the humans that you have clearly come here to observe again.” _

_ Minerva does not bother to hide her intentions this time.  “Yes, I am, I confess, rather invested in the unfolding of this ridiculous plan.  I hate you for it.” _

_ Venus smiled beatifically.  “Margarita is employing your tactic.  She and Alexandra now hunt in the forest together.  It has roused Alexandra’s blood.” _

_ Minerva sighs and sits down with them.  “Alright, then.  On with it.” _

  
  
  


**

  
  


They rode down to the river.  Alexandra allowed herself to take in all the green and the moist air.

“How did you come to have such skills?” she asked.

Margarita laughed.  “I have many skills.  I was not born to nobility, you know.”

Alexandra tried to contain her curiosity.  “And I was not born a slave.  We are many things before the gods take us.”

They reached the riverbank and dismounted.  Margarita asked as she tied her horse to a tree, “Who taught you to fight?  I have seen you in the arena and you are most impressive.”

“Thank you.  My father taught me.  And then I learned much also from Astra, and J’onn the Berber.”  Alexandra tied her horse to the same tree.  “And what of you, Imperial Majesty?  Did your father teach you to hunt?”

“No,” she said with a smirk as she walked toward the water.  “Pompey Magnus did.”

Alexandra snorted.  “You jest.”

Margarita shook her head.  “I do not.”   She reached the riverbank, unbuckled her belt and tossed it aside.  She slipped out of her tunic and laid it carefully on a rock beside the water.  Alexandra was arrested for a moment at how small and feminine her shape was, yet how much power was contained within it.  She watched as the empress descended waist deep into the water, back facing her, and bent down, washing the blood from herself.  Alexandra wished she would turn around and face her, but suspected that it was better she did not.  

“Will you bathe also?” Margarita called over her shoulder.

“I am not the one covered in blood,” Alexandra replied, but her tone betrayed a hesitation.

“You need not be shy.  I have seen you naked, after all.”  And there was a gentle teasing in her voice that Alexandra found maddening.

Alexandra relented, quickly stripped and washed, and put her clothes back again.  She would not admit to stealing some glances at the empress’s wet, naked shape as she cleaned herself.  She rode home to her Astra, mad with desire.  When Astra came to meet her in the darkened courtyard, Alexandra held her against a wall in the shadows and had her right there, not even caring if they were seen.  They retired to the bed, then, and had each other several times more, till the air in the room was thick with the smell of their sex and they were spent beyond measure.

  
  


**

  
  


_ Minerva is flushed.  “She seems to be affecting them,” is all she can manage to say. _

_ Bellona’s eyes are alight.  “This was a very good day, my love,” she declared.  _

_ Venus is pleased.  “I think they will be even better as three than they are as two.” _

_ Bellona is nodding enthusiastically.  “Yes.  It is a very good idea.  I am warming to your plan.” _

_ Venus leans in closer.  “I think you are warming, in general.” _

_ Bellona draws her into a kiss.  “That is also possible.” _

_ A few moments go by.  Bellona is fiddling with Venus’s robe.  Minerva clears her throat. _

_ “Will you stay?” Venus sighs. _

_ “For informational purposes,” Minerva says.  She hides behind a curtain.  Only her head peeks out. _


	6. Chapter 6

Margarita Augusta had been left a small fortune according to Augustus’s will.  But she was not fool enough to think that once the various gnats had finished battling for succession and the Senate approved them, that there was any chance that she would be keeping any of it.  It would belong to Rome, she would be told, or to the new Caesar.  

She knew that Maximus, Lord of Ravenna had eyes upon that fortune, if not, in fact, her very life.  She was rather attached to both.

Her circle of trust was small.  She drank with James and played a rousing game of latrunculi as she discussed her options.  She was bent and determined that Augustus’s public libraries be completed.  She was also rather set that before she yielded (or was forced to yield) power, she would reinstate the  _ Ludi Secularae _ games, as he had wished.  She had already spent a fortune of imperial gold on these projects, and was now prepared to sink a fortune into Cat’s lanista to produce games that would be of proper glory to the gods and to her husband’s memory.  Not that Margarita cared much for the gods, but she knew the singular moment she was occupying in history, and she meant to leave a mark upon it that would be difficult to erase.  What, after all, was left for a woman who had risen from humble stature to become Empress of Rome?

However, a wise woman prepared for many contingencies.  She knew that she needed to be able to leave quickly and access as much of her fortunes as possible in the event that the tide turned suddenly against her.

“But how will you handle the money?” James wondered as he moved some of his stones.  “We are not speaking of a coin purse.”

“Bit by bit, I should think.  And perhaps a good sum can be moved through the administration of the Games.”

James nodded.  “How well do you trust your friend Cat?”

Margarita considered.  “I need to think on this.  But there are other souls in the lanista who I hold in trust.”

James drank.  “You mean the two champions,” he inquired with a smirk.

Margarita nodded. 

“Have you made love to them yet, then?”

Margarita shook her head.  “No.  And that is precisely why I trust them.  They have a great deal of honor.”

James shook his head, chuckling.  “Truly, you have an intriguing mind, Imperial Majesty.”

But Margarita’s mind was barrelling ahead.  She had plans.  She meant to pursue them to their logical conclusion.

So it came to pass that she called for her favorites to visit as a couple again.  She received them in the garden, and they drank for a while and talked of the intrigues of the Senate and her efforts to cast doubts on the claim of Augustus’s nephew, a sniveling brat not fit to rule Rome.  They talked then of the Games that she planned, and her hopes that perhaps not only Alexandra but Astra would also compete.  When Astra expressed hesitance, Margarita suggested instead that Astra sit with her in her seat of honor.  

“So,” Alexandra inquired as the moon crept higher, “what sort of evening is this to be?”

Margarita smiled.  “I would like to observe you tonight.  But I wonder something.”

They waited.

“The way you make love … you wrestle each other, you meet each other’s passion and force, and it is…”  She paused, enjoying the warmth in her chest as she thought of it.  “...beautiful.  But… do you never surrender to each other?”

Astra looked quizzical.  Alexandra looked intrigued.  

“For example,” she began, gazing at Astra, “do you never simply give yourself over to the fullness of her passion?  Do you never simply … make a gift of yourself to her, to have as she wishes?”

Astra bit her lip, seeming to consider this.

Margarita’s eyes sparkled and she stood.  “Astra, come with me.  Alexandra, please wait here and enjoy the wine and fruit until I send for you.  We will not be long.”

When she arrived in her chamber with Astra, she produced a length of soft cloth.  “What is your intention?” Astra asked, looking uncertainly at the cloth.

“Does she ever bind you?”

Astra frowned.  “No.  Why?”

“It is a beautiful gift, to render yourself helpless to your lover.”  Margarita was only a little surprised that this was a new thought for her.  “How many women have you had before Alexandra?”

Astra thought.  “When I was a champion, my domina sent me to perhaps half a dozen noble women.”

Margarita nodded sympathetically.  “Yes, of course you would never think to do that in such a situation.”  She moved closer.  “It is an expression of trust.  It is vulnerability in its purest form.  You are surrendering yourself to her will.  Do you understand what I mean?”

Astra nodded slowly.  “So you would have me do what, then?”

“Strip naked, and allow me to tie your hands to the fulcrum of the bed.  I will not touch you in any way other than what is necessary to do this.  Then I would send for your Alexandra and we would see what might come of it.  And of course, if you find you hate it, you may stop at any time.”

Margarita was deeply moved by the passion between them and the pleasure they obviously took in each other.  But it had been clear to her for a while that they had not had many experiences or learned many ways to heighten their pleasure.  Astra considered her for a moment, and then stripped from her clothing, and laid down on the bed.  Margarita paused, taking a moment to enjoy Astra’s long, muscular frame unfurled before her.  And then gently, she tied the cloth to one wrist, looped it through the ornate bronzework of the fulcrum, and then tied it around the other wrist. 

Astra seemed indeed vulnerable, unsure, and her eyes had already gone hazy with desire.  Perhaps that desire was meant for Alexandra, but Margarita nonetheless enjoyed that look focused on her.  

She explained to Alexandra as she ushered her to the room that Astra was tied to the bed and waiting for her.  She explained the pleasures of tormenting one’s lover and of reveling in the honesty of their vulnerability.  She delighted in the little catch of breath in Alexandra’s throat as they entered and she saw her lover, naked, bound and waiting.

Alexandra began to strip but Margarita laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.  “Remain clothed a while.  Maintain your power.”

Alexandra looked fascinated.  She curled next to Astra’s prone body on the bed, taking in the sight of her.  “Are you mine, my love?” she whispered.

“Completely,” Astra whispered back, and she gasped as Alexandra leaned down and took an erect nipple in her mouth and sucked aggressively.

Margarita moved to the bedside, holding a small pot.  She held it up for Alexandra’s approval.

“What is it?”

“It is warm honey,” Margarita purred.

The two lovers looked mildly uncertain.  Margarita moved nearer and took the small dipper from the pot.  It was coated in golden honey.  She held it over Astra’s chest and they watched the long, thick drop of honey stretch itself downward.  Astra gasped again when the warmth of it struck her skin and Margarita dribbled a line of it slowly down between her breasts, and then a little more on one nipple, and then the other, to be met with more soft gasping sounds.

Alexandra understood.  She leaned down, and slowly licked the honey from Astra’s skin, lingering at each breast.  Astra shuddered under the slow, deliberate attentions.

“Would you like to taste this honey?  It is very good,” Margarita suggested.

Alexandra crawled up the bed a little and kissed Astra deeply.  Astra moaned against her mouth.  Ah, the sweetness of a honeyed kiss, Margarita thought happily.  Especially when accompanied by fingers toying with the sticky places on her skin.

She supplied her with a damp cloth, and Alexandra wiped the stickiness away.  She then requested more honey.  She dragged lines over Astra’s skin, indicating where she wanted it trailed, and then slowly licked it away.  They repeated this several times.  Astra’s moans grew louder.  The scent of her arousal was becoming strong and Margarita could not help but lick her lips as she watched them.  

“My love,” she moaned after some long moments of sweet torture, “please…”

Margarita’s knees grew weak but she remained standing beside them.  She held the jar out to Alexandra, who dipped a finger in, drew out a little more honey, and then spread Astra’s thighs apart.  “My love,” she murmured, “you are sweeter than all this.”  And she dripped the warm honey along the inside of one thigh, and licked it away.  Astra was trembling.  Alexandra was also.  She took another drop of honey and drew it down the center of Astra’s sex.  Astra gasped and convulsed her hips upward.  Alexandra smiled then, and leaned down, and lapped all of the sweetness away.  Margarita saw how the muscles in Astra’s arms strained against their bonds, how the muscles in her abdomen tensed to bring her hips up and move them against Alexandra’s mouth.  “Tell her,” she murmured in Alexandra’s ear as she devoured her lover, “that she is delicious.”  Alexandra could not argue.

Margarita moved up to the head of the bed and knelt down.  She whispered in Astra’s ear, “Tell her that your sex belongs to her, that it longs for her.”  

Astra moaned the words.  Alexandra finished her, trembling and crying out as Margarita had not seen them before.  Alexandra seemed surprised that her cheeks were damp, and that Astra also wept.  Alexandra untied her and they embraced, falling into one another and whispering things that Margarita could not hear but did not need to.  She had given them something new.  She was satisfied, for now.

  
  


**

  
  


_ Venus is delighted.  Bellona is agitated.  Minerva is in a ball on the floor beside the table. _

_ “You are a villain,” she groans at Venus. _

_ “I am nothing of the kind.  Was it not beautiful?  See, she has opened their eyes to something that they would not have found on their own.” _

_ “It was beautiful,” Minerva replies.  She seems physically uncomfortable. _

_ Bellona is unbuckling her armor.  She wants to make love now, right now, and does not care if Minerva stays or goes.   _

_ “Tell me,” Venus sighs as Bellona is scrambling at her robes, “Minerva, perhaps you would not mind staying and pouring the honey?” _

_ Minerva is quite put out.  “Do I really have a choice?” _

_ “You always have a --oh!-- a choice,” Venus answers, pausing to gasp at the rather insistent way in which Bellona is nibbling at her neck. _

_ “I hate you both.”  But she gets up and looks for the honey. _


	7. Chapter 7

Margarita sent for Alexandra again.  Again, they sat silently in the blind, side by side, till a proper kill was made, another strong buck.  Again, they bathed in the river. Margarita faced her this time, wanting to converse as they cleaned themselves.  Alexandra was moved by the sight of her, but she tried not to look too much.

“What did you mean,” Alexandra asked her, “when you said that Pompey Magnus taught you to shoot a bow and arrow?  He died when you were a young girl.”

“No,” Margarita replied, slipping beneath the water for a moment, then re-emerging, glistening.  “He died when I was a young boy.”

Alexandra looked at her, perplexed.  

Margarita smirked.  She swam a little closer and then stood, waist deep.  “When I was a girl of only ten, I ran away from home. I cut off my hair and made myself a page in Pompey’s army, posing as a boy.  With a bit of cleverness, I managed to eventually serve Pompey himself. He took a liking to me, and often I accompanied him on hunts.  It was he who taught me the use of the weapon, and told me that I had a bright future as one of his archers someday.”

Alexandra was impressed.  Such boldness! “But why did you run away?”

“My family was poor.  I was but the daughter of a sawyer, and destined to be married by thirteen to the son of a cooper.  I wanted no part of it.” Seeing Alexandra’s surprised expression, she added, “I was likely born lower than you or your lover.  I simply refused the destiny handed to me.”

Alexandra considered this.  “I was born to a merchant farmer,” she admitted after a moment.  “He died in debt. But he held his own land.”

Margarita nodded approvingly.  “So you see, where could I go but upwards?”

But Alexandra’s curiosity began to bubble over.  “Did the men know? Did Pompey know?”

Margarita smiled.  “I suspect Pompey knew but was too amused to expose me.  I only had one friend among the soldiers who knew.”

Alexandra absorbed this.  What must it have been, to hide what she was?  To have to play constant games to avoid having to piss with the other men?  “How did you avoid… the usual masculine things?”

Margarita laughed.  “I told the men I had been castrated by Caesar and was embarrassed of it!  It was enough.”

Alexandra was fascinated.  She forgot to feel at all awkward at their nakedness, and drew closer.  “So, he taught you?”

“Yes.  When I was twelve, I began to ride with his archers to support them.  And I was with the men at Pharsallus, when he suffered his most crushing defeat.  There was…” Her face lost it’s easy charm for a moment, as the memory of it took shape in her mind.  “...so much carnage. But I saw that my friend, the only friend who knew my truth, had been struck, and I ran out into the battle and pulled him from the field.  He was the eldest son of a minor noble, barely a ranking noble at all, but he was my friend, and now he owed me his life. His father had died while he was marching with Pompey, which as the eldest son, left him as patriarch of his household.  He decreed that I should be married to his youngest brother.”

“Did you fight on the field of battle?”

Margarita seemed to return to herself, then.  “I have some skill with a blade, yes, if that is what you ask.”

Alexandra was taken with this story.  “And then what? How did you come to marry Augustus?”

Margarita smiled again.  “A series of happy accidents and the wit to take advantage of them to marry upwards.”

Alexandra was incredulous.  “Accidents.”

Margarita gestured with one graceful hand. “Mishaps.  Rome is a dangerous place.”

Margarita would not say that she had murdered her husbands, Alexandra thought, but she was not saying otherwise, either.  There was steel in her, Alexandra thought, and wisdom and cunning. It was difficult to dismiss the appeal of it. “Men are stupid,” she declared wantonly, careful to keep her gaze fixed upon Margarita’s face.  “I would not be so easily taken.”

Margarita lifted an eyebrow then, amused at Alexandra’s certainty.  “I do not think I would take such a wager.” She moved through the water, her slender shape barely making a ripple.

Alexandra held her ground.  “You have seen me fight.”

“I have,” the young Empress replied.  “It is nearly as compelling as watching you make love.”

Alexandra lifted her chin.  She felt the burn in her cheeks, of challenge, and of lust.

“But it is straightforward,”  Margarita continued, her gaze unbreaking as she moved closer still.  “I am not.” 

Alexandra was surprised to find Margarita pounce at her then, knocking her backward into the water.  She submerged, briefly, under the smaller woman’s weight, and felt the push of water trying to get into her nose and mouth, and the cool hardness of metal at her throat.  She gripped the wrist that held the knife (where had she got it from?) and with her strong legs, leveraged them until they were turned over, and then stood again, dragging her out of the water.  After a moment of struggle, Alexandra had managed to turn her around and disarm her, and put the knife to her throat instead.

She stood panting, dripping and gasping, and Margarita, to her surprise, began to laugh.

“What is wrong with you?”  Alexandra demanded.

“It is a practice blade,” Margarita gasped, continuing to shake in Alexandra’s arms with silent laughter.

Alexandra took the knife from her and inspected it.  It surely was a practice blade with no edge. She realized that she was still clutching the young Empress’s wet, naked body and released her.  She tossed the knife onto the shore. “What was your purpose?” she demanded.

“To see if you were as quick and clever as you are passionate and strong.”

They stood, their breath slowly returning to normal.  Alexandra’s blood was surging. In this moment, she wanted nothing more than to throw Margarita Augusta down in the grass near the riverbank and fuck her mercilessly.  But she would not. Not without her Astra.

Margarita looked at her with obvious hunger, but did not move to do any more.  “And now you know the truth of my history,” she said softly. “But can I trust you with it?”

Alexandra held her gaze steady.  “I will not keep it from Astra.”

Margarita nodded.  “I expect no less. And can she be trusted with it?”

Alexandra smiled slowly.  “Surely you know she and I both live by our honor.”

Margarita gave her that smile, that dazzling, deep-dimpled one that never failed to charm those around her.  “That is the answer I hoped for.”

They dressed, and Alexandra rode home, and she released her frustrated lusts upon Astra that night, and then told her all that had transpired.

 

**

  
  


_ Minerva sits with her arms folded.  “Well, Venus, now you’ve done it. Alexandra desires the Empress, I can see it.” _

_ “Precisely.”  Venus is feeling smug.  Minerva is irritated. _

_ “But how will it not rouse Astra’s jealousy?” _

_ “Because,” Bellona realizes suddenly.  “This is not the boar’s horn after all.  She is not dividing their flanks to separate them permanently.  She is cultivating both halves to bring them together into a situation that will be favorable to her.” _

_ “You see,” Venus whispers, watching the lovers as they discuss the day’s events.  “The Empress has already planted a seed with Astra. She does not grow angry as Alexandra spins the tale.  She is curious. Interested. If the Empress is wise, and I believe she is, she will now secure another private moment with Astra to bring it to fruition.” _

_ Minerva sighs heavily.  “And just what is the fruition?” _

_ Venus shakes her head, still looking quite pleased with herself.  “I think it will need to be seen to be believed.” Minerva watches for a moment.  Venus slides a little closer and runs a finger down her cheek. “It will be lovely, don’t you think?” _

_ Bellona moves nearer on the other side of Minerva. She reaches behind Minerva’s back to tousle Venus’s hair.  “I can scarcely imagine, my love.” _

_ Minerva looks woozy.  “I… I had better be going.” _

_ Venus laughs.  “One day soon, Minerva, we will entice you to stay.” _

_ Minerva leaves, grumbling about scandalous, debauched goddesses.  Venus and Bellona barely notice.  _


	8. Chapter 8

Astra was summoned to the villa some days later.  Before she left, Cat took her aside for a word.

“How go these visits with the Empress?”

Astra hesitated.  “Why, domina? Has she said something?”

“No, and that is precisely the trouble.  She continues to pay handsomely, some four times what such a thing should cost, yet says nothing of what she gains by it.”

“And this troubles you?”

Cat folded her arms.  “I am always troubled by generosity I cannot explain.”

Astra nodded.  “Perhaps she wants something from you.”

Cat pursed her lips in thought for a moment.  “And she has not bedded either of you?”

“I would make you aware of such a development.”

“Good.”  She patted Astra’s shoulder.  “Hurry along. It does not do to keep her waiting.”

She arrived at the villa and was shown to the peristylium.  The wine and fruit were set forth, the latrunculi board was laid out, and Margarita Augusta sat alone at a small table near the fountain at the center.  She greeted Astra with a warm smile and invited her to sit.

Astra sat, and accepted the wine that the young Empress offered her.  They exchanged no words while Margarita poured, and then sat, watching her drink for a few long moments.  Finally, she asked: “Astra, what is it you dream of?”

Astra was taken aback at the question.  “Majesty?”

She waved dismissively.  “Ah, no. I am Margarita to you this evening.  But I ask you: what is it that you dream of? What is it that your heart most desires?”

Astra considered the question.  Her fascination with the young Empress had only grown since Alexandra shared what she had learned.  But the answer was simple. “I have dreamt for two years now of the day Alexandra wins her freedom, and buys mine, and we might go and buy back her father’s farm in Greece, to tend its groves and drink deeply of what time we have in this world.”

Margarita sighed, smiling.  “A beautiful thought. To have a life like that, so simple and so filled with such passion.”  She nodded slowly. “Alexandra has how long left in the arena, do you suppose?”

Astra shrugged.  “A few more years, I imagine.”

Margarita passed Astra her latrunculi stones.  “What if I could shorten that time for you? And buy back her father’s farm, and give you gold enough to live as you please?”

“Empress–” Astra paused and corrected herself as she saw her raise a hand to interrupt her.  “–Margarita… at what price?”

Margarita plucked a grape from the platter of fruit and popped it in her mouth with a little smile.  “Alexandra told you my history, I presume?”

“She did.”

“Then let me tell you what we did not discuss.  I am not beloved by the Senate. This, I think you have divined already.  They draw no closer to approving a successor to my husband’s throne, but some of them grow tired of me.  I do not trust that they will allow me to leave Rome with the fortune my husband left to me in his will.”

Astra shook her head.  “We are not bodyguards, you have men for this already–”

Margarita leaned forward.  “Do not speak until I have finished.”

Astra lowered her eyes.  “Apologies.”

Margarita went on. “I need, therefore, to move my fortunes out of Rome, and with haste.  You are aware, I am sure, of the ludi secularae that I am executing, one of the great tasks my husband willed, of course?  I mean to use the games to move the money through your domina’s lanista.”

Astra was still confused.  “How can I help?”

“Your domina trusts your word.  You would secure her cooperation on my behalf and you and your lover would be responsible for the moving of as much of my fortunes as possible through her lanista under the guise of payment for the games.”

Astra thought for a long moment.  She began laying her stones on the board as she considered this.  “Why us?”

“You are honorable. I trust you both.  I believe you are sympathetic to my situation.  And, I see your hunger for each other, and for a life free to love one another all the day long.  If I am in the position to hasten that day, why would you deny yourselves?”

Astra considered.  “Why would you not simply command this of her?”

Margarita smiled.  “An excellent question.  It is this: cooperation secured by command is easily reversed, and I would fear for my safety in the future, in any case.  However, cooperation secured through the plea of a trusted friend? This is far more reliable. I like your domina, quite a lot, in fact.  And I believe the admiration is somewhat mutual. But I am not entirely sure of where her sympathies lie. I would charge you with the delicate task of making sure that they lie with me.”

Astra smiled wryly.  The Empress was beautiful, brilliant, and thinking several steps ahead of those would hope to seize her power.  It was a great risk that was being asked of them. So many places where such a plan could go badly awry.

“You have not said yes yet,” Margarita remarked after a moment.

“You have said you trust me,” Astra observed.  “But how do I know that we can trust you?”

Margarita continued smiling.  “I have already made myself vulnerable.  Rome cannot know that their Empress is of low birth.  You have weapons enough to bring me down now.” She sipped her wine as Astra turned this over for a moment.  “But you would not need this. I am truly enamored of you both. It does my heart a good I did not know it needed, seeing you together.  Surely you have gathered this already. You are Catullus’s finest love poetry come to life before me.”

Astra flushed a little at this.  How could it be that her charms could so affect her?

_ “ _ _ Let us live, my Lesbia, let us love, _ _   
_ _ and all the words of the old, and so moral, _ _   
_ _ may they be worth less than nothing to us! _ _   
_ _ Suns may set, and suns may rise again: _ _   
_ _ but when our brief light has set, _ _   
_ _ night is one long everlasting sleep. _ _   
_ _ Give me a thousand kisses, a hundred more, _ _   
_ _ another thousand, and another hundred, _ _   
_ _ and, when we’ve counted up the many thousands, _ _   
_ _ confuse them so as not to know them all, _ _   
_ _ so that no enemy may cast an evil eye, _ _   
_ __ by knowing that there were so many kisses.”

Astra flushed further as the Empress recited.  The words were full of beauty and desire and they tripped off her tongue so delicately.  Astra was sad when the poem had ended, and asked if she would be so kind as to recite it again.  Pleased, Margarita did so, and her voice took on the softness of down, and the richness of mulled wine, and Astra was warmed in the pit of her chest to hear them.  This Catullus was, according to Cat, an unbearable prick, but his words… Astra thought she could listen to Margarita recite them all evening.

And she thought to herself, a soul that treasured those words as Margarita did was a soul worth knowing, a soul worth saving.  She asked if there was more poetry, and there was. They abandoned the game, and lounged together in the garden, listening to the trickle of the fountain, while the Empress recited a dozen poems or more from her own memory.  Astra was breathless when she was done. She felt as though she was vibrating from the sheer beauty. “I will intercede for you,” she said after a long silence. “Not only because of your offer, but because I cannot bear the thought of you losing all that you have seized through your wit and courage.”  Impulsively, she seized Margarita’s hand. “We will aid you in any way we can.”

  
  


**

 

_ “The Empress has touched Astra’s soul,” Venus says, pleased at the progress of things. _

_ “With the way that Astra was looking at her I cannot believe that was all she touched,” Bellona says archly, cleaning her fingernails with a knife. _

_ Minerva shakes her head.  “She is playing a longer game than that.  She waits. She waits for them to desire her both individually and collectively.  Her strategy and patience are impressive, actually.” _

_ “Do you fully understand her intention, then?” Venus presses.  “Do you understand why she needs them?” _

_ Minerva nods.  “I think so, yes.  Her history as it unfolded left her no room for love or passion of the sort they share.” _

_ Venus claps her hands, delighted.  “Astra is the heart, Alexandra the body, and Margarita, the brilliant mind.  While the two of them were beautiful together, they will see how she comes to complete them.” _

_ Bellona sets her knife down.  “I grow impatient. When will the three make love?” _

_ “How will that even work?” Minerva wonders aloud and then immediately regrets asking. _

_ “I have several ideas,” Venus purrs, “so perhaps you would like to help us try them and see which will work best?” _

_ Minerva has summoned some pancakes, though, and is tearing into them with unusual enthusiasm.  “I am busy now. This conversation has made me very hungry.” _

_ Bellona snickers.  Venus merely smiles.  It is the wrong sort of hunger, but then, perhaps there is no wrong sort, after all. _


	9. Chapter 9

Alexandra was surprised to learn of the turn things had taken during Astra’s visit.  She inquired as to whether Astra had been perhaps moved to agree to this plan out of her desire for the Empress.

Astra considered the question honestly before answering.  “You have confessed that she stirred some lust in you. She does also in me.  But… she offers us our dream, far sooner. And… lust alone would not be enough to make me agree to such a plan.”

“You admire her.”

“Yes.  Don’t you?”

“Of course.  There is something to her brilliance and boldness that makes me wish for her to plan succeed.”  Alexandra straddled Astra in their small bed and looked down lovingly at her. “If you are prepared to take this risk, my love, then I am with you.”

So Astra carefully made certain in her time with Cat during the days to gently mention her great admiration for the Empress.  She did not mention Margarita Augusta’s fondness for Catullus, as that, she supposed, would do little to endear her to Cat. She never dwelt very long on the subject, but she would often drop a word here or there as to the Empress’s kindness, her intellect, her apparent fondness for Cat (“She often speaks well of you, you know”).  She was proceeding delicately, as she had been asked to do, so that when the time came to ask forthrightly for her aid, it would neither be surprising nor something she was unwilling to do. And she took pains to wait upon Cat’s every need as best she could.

  
  


***

 

In a week’s time, Margarita summoned them both to the villa again.  She welcomed them warmly, and escorted them to the great chamber where they made love for her enjoyment.  As they walked, she inquired, “So, have you decided to aid me in my plan?”

“Yes,” Alexandra said.  “We are pleased to do it.  I have little experience with intrigue, but I trust you already have a plan that holds water well enough.”

Margarita clapped with delight.  “Wonderful!” They entered the room, lit with torches and ready for them.  

Astra and Alexandra were, by now, accustomed to these visits, and made their way to the bed, removing their clothing as they went.  Margarita had wine and water both beside the bed for them, and oranges, as Alexandra preferred, and the jar of warmed honey in case they wanted it.  They wasted no time in tangling themselves together and losing themselves in passionate kisses, lying on their sides, face to face.

Margarita came gently to the bedside, and placed a hand upon Astra’s shoulder.  “In celebration of our new arrangement,” she said softly, “I have a gift for you.  You need not use it if you do not wish, of course. I only thought you might enjoy it.”

Astra loosened her hold on Alexandra enough to turn over a little and see Margarita standing beside the bed.  With a small smile, she held something up for her perusal. It was heavy, small, wrapped in leather, with a series of leather straps attached.  It was a phallus, and clearly one that had been well made by a serious craftsman. The two lovers gazed at it in wonder for a moment. Margarita was radiant.  “If you do not wish–” she began.

But Astra cut her off.  “I do!” She stopped and looked at Alexandra.  “Do you, my love?”

Alexandra’s eyes were alight with curiosity.  “I believe I do.”

It was Astra who reached for it first.  She brushed her fingers down its length, gazing at it for a moment before taking it in hand and testing its weight.  Margarita tugged at the straps. “May I help you with these? As always, I will not touch you other than what is necessary to secure them.”

Astra hesitated a moment, then nodded.  Margarita moved in behind her. “Place it, like so…”  And she guided Astra’s hand to where it needed to be, and then wrapped the straps around her hips and secured them, tightly but not so much as to cause discomfort.  She backed away a few steps and allowed them a moment; Alexandra lying there, gazing up at Astra eagerly and hungrily, and Astra, looking down with fascination at what she now wore.  A shiver of excitement passed through all three of them. Astra looked over at Margarita, a mute look of questioning.

Margarita smiled benevolently, and stepped closer again.  “Now, you take her with it,” she said softly, in a comforting, encouraging tone. “See how she craves you?”

Astra looked at her Alexandra, lying before her, spread open and ready.  

“I am sure,” Margarita added gently, “that she is wet enough for you, but perhaps I should… prepare it for her? I will not touch you, only the instrument.”

Astra held still, and Margarita bent down, carefully gripped the cock so as not to touch Astra at all, and took it in her mouth, wetting it down with her tongue.  She could feel them both tremble as she did this and it thrilled her in deep, deep places. She straightened up and leaned close to Astra’s ear, and whispered, “Now, push her legs up to her chest, so that she is open to you, and insert it.  I will help you if you require it.”

So Astra did as she said, looking upon her love awaiting her with expectation and hunger.  She positioned herself and then, after finding the angle that was needed, inserted the tip of the cock, and then slowly pushed her weight forward, watching with feverish fascination as it slid in.  Alexandra moaned softly, her eyes dropping shut for a moment as pleasure consumed her.

“Good?” Margarita asked, her voice quiet but brimming with intensity.

Alexandra nodded. 

“Astra?  Are you well?”

Astra also nodded, wordless.

Margarita whispered again in her ear.  “Now, fuck her with it, but only a little.  Draw yourself out, and give her only half of it.  Do this till she is begging for all of it.”

Astra did as she said, and watched with growing lust as Alexandra moaned and tried to pitch her hips against Astra to take more of the shaft inside her.  Astra trembled but would not give more than half of it. Margarita could see that Alexandra was growing wetter with each thrust, and hungrier to be filled.

“Please,” she moaned.  “Please, give me more.”

Astra’s eyes lit up at the sound of it.  Margarita’s heart skipped with a kind of strange pride.  Ah, there it was. Astra understood that she held power of a kind.  It was a beautiful thing to watch her become intoxicated by it. She withheld, thrusting only a little, and a little, and a little, both of them lit with hunger that was being stoked yet not released.

“Please,” Alexandra moaned again, and Astra seemed to breathe her sighs in with great delight.  The sound of Alexandra’s pleas inflamed her.

Margarita knelt beside the bed, and whispered into Alexandra’s ear.

Alexandra seemed doubtful.  “Truly?”

“Do it,” Margarita promised quietly, “and she will not be able to deny you.”  She remained kneeling beside the bed.

A fine sweat was breaking across Alexandra’s forehead and her fingers were scraping down Astra’s arms.  She was burning with longing, it was evident. From an aching, honest place, she moaned aloud as Margarita had told her, “Please, please fuck me … domina.”

Astra shuddered and her hips surged forward and she filled Alexandra with the fullness of the cock strapped to her hips.  Alexandra cried out from deep in her belly, and with arms and legs now wrapped around her Astra, she was overcome with pleasure.  Astra had buried it deep inside her and was thrusting quick and hard, and Alexandra was thrusting back, begging for more, and crying over and over again, “Yes, domina, fuck me, domina…”  Each time she said it, Astra redoubled her efforts, until they were both slicked with sweat and groaning and shouting. The fierce Alexandra’s surrender was beautiful and pure, and Astra wore her power magnficently.  Margarita could not rise from beside the bed, her knees were trembling so, watching them in this moment of ecstacy. She was sure Alexandra climaxed once, but Astra did not stop, and thrust her through to another, and then a third, before collapsing on top of her.  They kissed deeply, and wept in each other’s arms. Margarita remained quiet. Their desire for each other was the most intense and beautiful thing she had ever seen. When given the tools of power and pleasure, they were nothing less than divine. 

Several long moment went by, as they held each other and whispered soft things to each other.  Margarita did not invade, nor comment, nor move to disturb them in any way. Finally, after a long while, Astra rose up onto her knees again, and Alexandra rolled onto her side to take a slice of orange from the plate beside the bed.  They both regarded her with the torchlight flickering in their eyes.

Astra gestured down awkwardly.  “Would you be so kind…?” She trailed off helplessly.

Margarita rose, and came and unstrapped her.  She took the phallus back, and smiled at both of them.  “I hope it was half as good for you as it was for me to observe.”

They both nodded.

“You may use it as often as you like.  It is my gift to you, in honor of the new nature of our association.  However, you cannot take it home with you. It stays here.” She saw their obvious disappointment, and smiled a little.  “And now it must be cleaned.” She took it in her mouth again, and licked it clean while they watched, still as flies trapped in amber.  She delighted in the taste of Alexandra, which was as strong and sweet as she had imagined it might be, and in the hungry looks they both gave her.  She would have them both, and they would have her, and it would be blessed in the eyes of the gods.

  
  


***

 

_ Bellona is riled up.  She jumps up on the table, knocking over the wine and nearly knocking Minerva over with her robes.   _

_ “By Jupiter!” she cried.  “I thought surely that would be the moment!  Why did she not make an advance?” _

_ Minerva swats at Bellona’s robes and smacks her fork against one of Bellona’s greaves with a metallic clonk. “Because, you bonehead, she wishes for them to come to her.  Just as she wishes Astra to enlist Cat’s help. It is worth more when freely given.” _

_ Venus is barely listening to them bicker.  She gazes down fondly at her humans, eyes welling up with tears.  She is moved at how electric they are, how the desire simmers amongst the three of them.  The pull between them is inevitable now.  _

_ Minerva’s eyes are strange and shiny, and Venus thinks she almost looks a bit mad.  “I have laid down a thing,” she says, rising. “I do hope you will approve. Call it my contribution to this experiment in debauchery.” _

_ “Will you not stay to watch the result?” Venus asks. _

_ Minerva smiles.  “It will be but a moment.  I shall return.” _

_ “I want sex now,” Bellona complains.   _

_ “Yes,” Venus agrees.  “It is a shame that Minerva would not stay and watch us.” _


	10. Chapter 10

The weeks moved swiftly toward the appointed time of the ludi secularae.  Astra and Alexandra spent a few more evenings together at the villa, the tension between the three so thick it was palpable in the air.  Margarita whispered soft, hot things to them, and brought their lovemaking to heights that they could not have imagined. It became so that when they made love alone, Astra found she missed the Empress’s presence. 

Astra chose to make her move with Cat.  

“Domina,” she began one day, after she had helped her in the detailed matters of finance that had consumed her afternoon, “I must ask you something.”

“Always,” Cat replied, curious.  Astra rarely asked for anything. Cat had to take notice of the way she looked at Alexandra when she’d first arrived and shoo her down to the courtyard to be near her.

“What is your opinion of the Empress?”

Cat looked at her for a moment. “Personally?  I like her well enough. I know she is of humble beginnings, as I was.  I know she is as clever as I am but more ruthless. I know that she is unique in the history of Rome as a ruling Empress, but I would not trade places with her for all the world.  Too many knives pointed at her back. Flying this high above my station suits me well enough.”

“Do you think she does the job well?”

Cat nodded thoughtfully.  “I suppose she does. We are none the worse for it.  I do not know what will happen when the Senate finally chooses one of Augustus’s wheezing uncles or sniveling nephews to succeed him, but she is managing to keep them squabbling over it and– what in the world are you getting about, Astra?  Out with it.”

Astra smiled.  “Domina, she fears for her life, as you plainly know.”

“And?”

“And she fears that when the Senate chooses a successor, that they will not honor Augustus’s will, or worse– she will end up with a knife in her back.”

“And?”

Astra sighed heavily.  “I have come to… admire her greatly.  It would grieve me if either of these things should happen.”

Cat gave her a skeptical look.  “And what does your Alexandra say?”

“She is with me.  She also admires her.”

“Admires.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“She seeks to move her fortunes out of Rome before the Senate decides that they are not hers.  I think we… you… can help her.”

Cat folded her arms and looked at Astra with surprise at the boldness of such a request.  “She has not bedded you?”

“No, domina, I swear it.”  Astra sighed. “She has taken us into confidence.  She says she trusts us to honor our word.”

Cat shook her head.  “And what is she offering?”

“To move a substantial fortune through the lanista under the guise of payment for your supplying fighters for the games.  You would take a percentage of what was moved, apart from normal payment for the games.”

Cat considered her.  “And what is she offering you?”

Astra hesitated.  “She would… buy our freedom and purchase Alexandra’s father’s farm for us to live on.”

Cat smiled sadly.  “And if I will not sell?”

Astra looked at her desperately.  “Domina… Cat…”

Cat touched her shoulder.  “Sssh, do not fear. I already have held you here too long on borrowed time.  You should have left me seven years ago after you were a champion. But I suppose… if you had left, you would not have met your Alexandra.  The gods are fickle and have their own plans in mind.” She embraced Astra. Astra returned it. She would not weep, nor would Cat, at least not today.  But her heart was full. “What will I do without you? I trust no-one half as much as you.”

Astra smiled.  “Your son is becoming more a man each day.  Perhaps it is time he learns the running of his own affairs.”

Cat nodded.  “So it is.” She sighed, and looked exasperated with Astra.  “You really mean to do this. You really intend to pull the wool over the eyes of the entire Roman senate and move a fortune out of Rome undetected.”

Astra nodded.  “I do. But I need your help.”  

Cat threw up her hands and rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically.  “Ah! Well, I am a foolish romantic, it appears. I cannot say no to you.  Let us discuss particulars.”

  
  


***

 

_ “You did not move Cat’s heart?” Bellona demands incredulously. _

_ Minerva snorted.  “Of course not. You well know that this is not the sort of thing I do.” _

_ “Then, what?” _

_ Venus is curious too.   _

_ “You will see.  When the moment arrives, you will see and I believe you will know what I have done.” _

 

****

 

Margarita made arrangements with Cat, through Astra and Alexandra.  Some gold was sent, wrapped up and disguised to look like half of what it was.  It was stored, for the time being, in a secret storeroom behind the wall of Cat’s study.  The moving of the gold inside the lanista was supervised by Astra. None but she, Alexandra, and Cat knew what it was.  It was kept locked in chests and wrapped in cloth, and each chest had other items on top to disguise its contents.

Alexandra took the gold outside the lanista, bit by bit, always at night, with as much as a single horse could pull in a small wagon.  She would ride out to the villa and Margarita’s man James would dispatch it from there to a location further out in the country. The night trips were exhausting and Alexandra found it difficult to train in the early mornings, but nothing could appear amiss, so she would stumble through, find some time to rest in the afternoons, and then go about her normal training in the early evenings.

Two more large payments came through, and were handled in the same fashion.  No-one knew the precise final destination of the gold apart from Margarita herself, and her trusted man James.

Cicero came to visit Margarita in the days before the games were to begin.  He commented on her great faith in the relatively small lanista of the Grantii to produce warriors for such exhibitions.  She was dismissive, told him she was doing business with other lanistae besides, and then spoke blushingly of his last speech at the forum.  He was easily manipulated with flattery, and she was determined to give him little else, despite being aware that he was fishing.

The truth was, she had generously staked a few other lanistae in Rome, so her trail was covered.  She would rather be accused of being profligate in Augustus’s memory than leave a trail for those who opposed her to follow.  She had decided that in the wake of the games, it would be easy to move the last of what she intended to take, which was no more than what her husband had willed to her.  Less moving expenses, of course.

  
  


**

 

Alexandra had been on no night runs the two days before the games.  She needed to rest in order to be ready for the arena, or all of this would be for naught.  She was fresh and ready, sharp as a blade, stretching in the pen before her first round. Astra was with her, oiling her skin so that it gleamed and showed the definition of her lovely muscled arms and shoulders.  Margarita was with them, watching enviously as Astra’s hands traveled Alexandra’s skin with intimate familiarity. 

“Jupiter is with you, Champion,” Margarita said to her.

Alexandra dipped her head deferentially.  “We who are about to die salute you.”

Astra whispered something in Alexandra’s ear, and then they left her, and went up to the stands, to where Margarita would sit and watch and be watched by all of Rome.  Cat and Astra would be seated with her. 

Alexandra fought in an early melee, with some chaff from another lanista that she defeated easily.  Margarita was not reserved in her applause. Astra was confident in Alexandra’s ability, but she nevertheless always felt ill at ease when her lover was in the arena.  It was strange to juxtapose the anxiousness with the comfort of being served in the Empress’s seat of honor. Margarita had servants come with platters and wine and water.  She called for fans and they were brought. Among her retinue, Astra looked around and counted five centurions and James. She instinctively kept reaching to her waist, half expecting a blade to be there.  Several times when someone in the audience moved too quickly, she fought the urge to leap from her seat.

Alexandra came out for the spear fighting match, a re-enactment of the Battle of Pharsalus.  Naturally, Margarita had seen to it that Alexandra fought on Caesar’s side, not Pompey’s. Astra nevertheless thought it funny that Margarita had requested this little nod to her own past.  Alexandra let the cavalry and destroyed Pompey’s shield wall easily. She stood in the center of a litter of wounded, the other warriors at her flank. Her eyes met first with Margarita’s, and then with Astra’s, blazing and triumphant.  She smiled. Astra smiled back. She then saw Alexandra’s face take on a look of alarm. Astra’s heart raced. 

Alexandra ran full bore toward the stands, spear raised.  Astra looked around and saw two of the five centurions being cut down from behind with hand and a half swords.  She leapt to her feet. 

Alexandra hurled her spear directly at them.  It whistled past Astra’s head and landed with a dull, wet thud in something directly behind her.  She turned, and found an assassin had crept into the box. Time slowed down.

She snatched the sword from his hand as he fell, and then leapt from the box to engage the two men who had taken down the centurions to the right of them.  She saw James over her shoulder, engaging two more to the right. Alexandra clambered over the edge of the stands and into them, taking the rows of seats two at a time as the crowd parted before her.  The entire stadium held its breath. Astra slew one of the men, and tossed his sword to Alexandra. For several long minutes that felt eternal, there was the ring of metal, cries of pain, the smell and taste of blood.  

When it was done, no less than eight assassins had been brought down by Alexandra, herself and James.  Cat and Margarita stood together, holding on to one another. Astra knew that if it came to it, Margarita could have joined the fray too, but it was better if she did not.  She looked to Alexandra, her heart still racing and the rush of battle still ringing in her veins. They nodded to one another.

Margarita Augusta could not be taken from them.  They knew this now, as surely as they knew their own names.  

  
  


***

  
  


_ “She nearly died!” Bellona exclaims. _

_ “But she didn’t,” Minerva replies with a yawn. _

_ “But she could have!”  Bellona shouts back. _

_ “Was this your doing?  The assassination attempt?” Venus demands. _

_ Minerva nods.  “Brilliant, don’t you think?  It has clarified their feelings for them, and now they know that they cannot lose her.  Not to mention that they have risked their lives saving hers. It will stir Margarita Augusta’s heart as well, do you not agree?” _

_ Venus is not very pleased.  “Yes, but I wish you had not… it was a terrible risk.” _

_ Minerva laughed.  “No, it was not.” _

_ Venus frowns.  “Why not?” _

_ “Who do you think ordered the assassination attempt?” _

_ There is a long, shocked silence as the other two goddesses stand, mouths agape, wheels turning.  Finally, Venus speaks. “Do you mean to tell me… that Margarita Augusta ordered it herself?” _

_ Minerva winks.  “It garners public sympathy at a moment when she is memorializing her husband.  It throws off those who would attempt to assassinate her, as they now believe someone else is trying to do their job for them.  And it has the added advantage of offering tangible proof of Alexandra and Astra’s feelings.” _

_ The other two goddesses are agape, but they cannot argue its brilliance.  “You put this into Margarita Augusta’s head?” Bellona finally asks. _

_ Minerva nods.   _

_ “Bloody brilliant,” she grumbles, almost resentfully, because she rather wishes she had thought of it. _

_ “And that,” Minerva declares, “is why I am the goddess of wisdom.”  She winks, and heads for the door. _

_ “But,” Venus protests, “you are going to miss the best part!  Seeing the result of your handiwork!” _

_ Minerva smiles.  “I shall return.” _


	11. Chapter 11

Cat, naturally, permitted Astra and Alexandra to ride back to the palace with the Empress.  James accompanied them, riding along behind with a small cadre of hand picked centurions that he would trust with his life.  Margarita thanked Cat for her generosity in hushed tones as they stood talking for a moment outside the sedan.

Cat was having none of it.  “You are buying away my most trusted servant and my most profitable champion with a mountain of gold enough to ensure my son’s legacy for a few generations.  Generosity does not begin to enter into it.”

Astra felt a small stab of guilt at this.  She and Alexandra sat together, quietly speaking as they waited for the Empress to finish her exchange with Cat.  Their voices were unnaturally breezy and sarcastic, trying to make light of what had just happened. Beneath it, Astra could hear the tones of concern in both of them.

“She is fortunate that we were there to protect her.  James is a good warrior but she would have been in trouble without us,” Alexandra observed.

Astra nodded.  “It hurts my heart to think of it.”

Alexandra seized Astra’s hand.   “My love… do you think…?”

Astra knew what Alexandra was trying to ask.   _ Do you think we have both fallen in love with her? _  “I do not know.  I cannot bear to think what might have happened had we not been there today.”

Alexandra laced her fingers through Astra’s.  “She is of a kind with us.”

“She is.”  She took her free hand and traced a finger down Alexandra’s cheek, still streaked with blood and dirt from the arena.  “Lately I feel her absence when we are not with her.”

Their conversation was cut short as Margarita entered and they began their slow journey, winding through the knobbly streets toward the Imperial palace.  She smiled at both of them and they each clasped one of her hands. “My champions,” she sighed, drawing out the words. “I owe you my life.”

“Does this…?” Astra began hesitantly.  “Does this change your plans?”

“For the money?  No. We still wait until the end of the Games, and the last night shall see us all depart Rome.”

Astra’s heart ached to see the fields of barley in Ardassa that Alexandra had spoken of so many times, and the olive groves that nodded in the mild winds.

“Are you certain you will be safe to wait so long?”

“Of course.  I shall have my two champions beside me.”

  
  


**

 

Margarita received them in her large, comfortable cubiculum with the wide windows unshuttered to let in the breezes, the murmur of the streets, and the wide sky filled with stars.  She poured them wine and they sat at her small table. She was splendid, the Empress, jeweled and perfumed and draped in rich red fabric. She gazed at them as though they were the first beautiful women she had ever seen in the world.  Astra wondered how she could be so relaxed, so radiant, even now.

Finally, Alexandra grew agitated and asked, “Are we here for … why are we here?  Did you bring us to guard you? Are we here to discuss your plans? To make love for you?  Why?”

Margarita smiled, and Astra was annoyed with herself at how charmed she was by it.  “I wish to thank you both. That is all. I have a legion to guard me.”

But Alexandra had her teeth in the matter now, and would not let go.  “Thank us how?”

Margarita stood, smiled, and drew closer to them both.  She reached down and ran her finger down Alexandra’s cheek, still dirty from the arena.  “By affording you every comfort. Come, I believe a bath would do us all some good.”

  
  


***

 

Alexandra had bathed in the river with Margarita but Astra had not.  She did not trouble herself to look elsewhere when the Empress descended into the water.  Alexandra had submerged to free herself of the dirt and blood, and when she broke through the steaming surface, she caught Astra’s gaze and pinched her, amused.

Astra leaned down and kissed her and mumbled against her mouth, “I am very impressed with you, my love.”

“How so?”

“You were wet and naked with her and yet you did not have her.  She is exquisite.”

Alex chuckled, and they kissed each other, aware of Margarita watching them, hearing her happy sighing as they wound themselves around each other for a moment. “I could not enjoy such a thing without you, my star,” Alexandra whispered hoarsely.

At the edge of the bath, Margarita stood, and poured two cups of wine, and brought them to the lovers where they stood.  They drank deep, and after a moment, the wine and the heat of the water made their heads feel full of stars. 

“We are pleased that you are safe,” Astra managed.  “We would be most grieved if you were not.” She felt Alexandra’s hand sliding up and down her wet back.

“I would like it if you did not frighten us again,” Alexandra added.  

Margarita was looking at them, smiling, but her eyes were warm and they did not hesitate to drift lazily down their bodies and back up again as she drew nearer.  “Truly?” She moved through the water with the stalking slowness that Alexandra had experienced in the river. “You were concerned for my safety?”

Astra’s eyes settled on Margarita’s mouth, its lushness.  She wished very much to taste it. She held Alexandra tightly against her side.  “We have become much accustomed to your presence.”

Margarita was no fool.  She could see the way the two champions stared at her.  Their hunger was evident. “Only that?” she said more softly.

“Not only that,” Alex answered.  She held silent as Margarita continued to draw nearer.  “I hope you are not hiding a knife like last time,” she jested.

Margarita held up both hands.  “Only myself, and the best wine.”

In the end it was Alexandra who reached out, took Margarita’s hand, and pulled her forward.  She stood then, in between Alexandra and Astra. “We will not lose you,” Astra murmured, tracing fingers down the warm, damp skin of Margarita’s shoulder.

“We cannot,” Alexandra declared quietly, gingerly brushing her fingers along Margarita’s cheek and down her jaw and neck.

Margarita shivered with delight.

Astra and Alexandra locked eyes over Margarita’s shoulder.  They understood their intent. Astra grabbed a handful of Margarita’s hair, and pulled her head back, exposing her throat for Alexandra to lean in and kiss.  Astra thrilled at watching her lay little bites on the soft skin, and feeling Margarita twitch and tremble at it. She let go of Margarita’s hair and circled an arm around her waist, pulling her close and holding her up as her knees grew weak from Alexandra’s attentions.  With her free hand, she raked her fingers through Alexandra’s hair, sighing, “Yes, my love, she is ours. Make her sigh sweetly for us.” Alexandra moved up Margarita’s neck and explored her earlobe with teeth and tongue.

Margarita gave a quiet little moan at this.  Astra felt the shift as Margarita entrusted her weight to Astra’s arms, leaning back against her.  The Empress’s perfume was sweet, and her skin smooth, but beneath it Astra felt the muscles of a woman who never quite stopped being a warrior.  It was different from the hard, tight body of her Alexandra, in a way that was intoxicating. “No harm will come to you so long as you are with us,” Astra mumbled into her shoulder.  

“More precious than gold,” Alexandra mumbled, and she sank down for a moment to kiss one of Margarita’s breasts.  Margarita sighed, and Alexandra sighed in response. Margarita flung an arm back to slip it loosely around Astra’s neck, opening herself to all that Alexandra wished.  Astra watched over the Empress’s shoulder as Alexandra suckled at the dusky nipple and Margarita shuddered sweetly. What a delight it was to watch Alexandra make love from this vantage point!  To appreciate her beauty through new eyes!

Astra tugged at Alexandra’s hair.  Alexandra drew herself up, smiled at Astra, and then pressed herself in so that she and Astra could share a soft, delicious kiss over Margarita’s shoulder.  When they pressed her close between them, she moaned softly. Astra felt her hips begin to move, seeking the firm pressure of Alexandra’s body. The lust between them grew, and Astra found herself grinding herself gently against the firm curves of Margarita’s ass, delighting in the friction of their bodies.  She found Alexandra’s eyes again, and they shared a burning look. She knew that beneath the water, Alexandra was moving herself against Margarita also, and it filled her with hot pleasure. “Margarita Augusta,” she whispered through thick breaths, “are you ours?”

She nodded, wordless and panting.

“Do you swear it?” Alexandra leaned in again and softly bit Margarita’s ear.

“I swear it, my champions,” she moaned.

Astra reached down then, still supporting her with one arm, and slid her hand in between Margarita and Alexandra’s bodies.  She moved with slow purpose, and placed her hand upon her sex. “Then I claim this,” she whispered.

Margarita whimpered,  “Yes.”

Astra stroked her, then, her fingers moving in a slow, throbbing rhythm.  Alexandra pressed herself against the back of Astra’s hand, and took pleasure from it also.  They stood locked together in the water, Alexandra’s hands hanging onto Astra’s hips, the three of them thrusting and moving against each other and taking hot, trembling joy from it.  “Kiss her mouth,” Astra commanded when Alexandra next found her eyes. “Claim it for us, my love.”

Alexandra kissed Margarita, and Astra felt her swoon in her arms.  She laughed a little, because she knew that feeling. She knew what Alexandra’s kisses could do when they were passionate and true.  She saw Alexandra’s hand take one of Margarita’s perfect little tits in hand and squeeze it as they moved against each other. Astra felt the tension growing in the bodies of her two lovers, and was surprised to find that her own pleasure was growing, not only for the feeling of Margarita pressed against her, but for the unexpected intimacy of sharing with Alexandra something so new and different as making love to a woman they both desired.  Often they would find each other’s eyes and smile, half in pleasure and half in disbelief. 

“Are you well, Astra?” Alexandra whispered to her.

Astra nodded.  

“Does this please you?” Margarita panted.

“It pleases me greatly,” Astra promised, continuing to move her fingers.  “You will finish for us, yes?”

And Margarita, ripe with lust, sighed, “Oh, yes, domina.”   


Astra nearly finished at the sound of her soft, honeyed voice saying this.  Her breathing quickened along with her fingers. She felt Margarita thrusting harder, felt Alexandra pressing in against her hand with more conviction.  “Again.”

Alexandra was moaning too, now.  She buried a hand in Margarita’s dark hair and looked at her with eyes that seemed dark as plums, and growled softly, “Say it again.”

“Yes, domina,” Margarita cried, and Alexandra smiled with satisfaction at the way it made Astra convulse with ecstacy.  She rewarded Margarita with another hot kiss. “Good,” she murmured. 

Astra felt as though all of her body was submerged in the hot water.  It felt as if she was breathing it. They moved as one. Margarita was the first to finish, shuddering as though struck by lighting, and she remained standing only because she was held up by Astra and Alexandra.  She moaned the names of gods as she came. Alexandra finished after, and wrapped her arms around both of them and leaned in. “Wait,” she whispered.

Alexandra then pulled back, and gently pulled Margarita to one side. Astra’s flesh lamented at the sudden loss of contact.  Alexandra stepped into her, hooked her arms around her, and with the aid of the water, lifted Astra off her feet, carried her to the edge of the bath, and laid her there carefully.  Much as Astra had done to her the very first time they had made love, Alexandra pushed her back gently to lie down with her legs still in the water. Astra ached now, wanting the climax that was close but just out of reach.  “Please her,” Alexandra told Margarita, with a tone of gentle command. “She has taken care of us both and deserves our affections.”

And then she lifted herself from the water and laid herself beside Astra, and kissed her.  

Margarita’s mouth was soft and skilled, and Astra gasped when she felt her tongue probing the contours of her sex, teasing its center, keeping its rhythm steady but its direction ever a surprise so that she did not know where it was going next or what nerves it would touch.  It was different and new, unlike the way Alexandra liked to please her, and she moaned against Alexandra’s mouth.

“Does she please you, my love?” Alexandra mumbled through their hot kisses.

“Mm,” was all Astra could manage as the waves of heat bloomed out from where Margarita’s mouth was licking her.  The tension buzzed throughout her body, reaching a crescendo, and then broke. For a moment there was only silence in her head, Alexandra’s kiss upon her mouth, Margarita’s tongue between her legs, and the swirling hot climax of tasting something that until now, had been beyond her imagining.

  
  


**

 

_ Minerva fans herself. _

_ So does Venus. _

_ Bellona is already unbuckling her armor. _

_ “I told you,” Venus whispers breathlessly. _

_ “You did,” Minerva admits. _

_ “What are they doing now?” Bellona wonders aloud.   _

_ “I don’t know,” Venus says slowly, watching them, “but I think I would like to try it.” _

_ “Go on and lodge your usual protest, Minerva,” Bellona jests. _

_ Minerva is silent for a moment, peering over Venus’s shoulder.  “Well,” she sighs after a moment. “You definitely need three people for that particular act.”  An awkward silence follows. She sighs. “Yes, by Zeus, I’m saying yes.” _

_ Venus lips curl in as pleased a smile as she has ever worn.  “You will stay?” _

_ “Yes,” Minerva snaps.  “Now disrobe, the both of you, before I change my mind.” _


	12. Chapter 12

The gladiator, the slave, and the empress, they were three, now.  

Alexandra could still barely fathom how it was that the love she shared with Astra was so great that it could contain another, yet it was so.  She felt as though she had not known that their passion could be greater until they had come before her; the daughter of low birth, the archer, the soldier, the lady, the widow, the empress.  They saw her for all that she was and in so doing, saw each other with fresh eyes as well.

The Games were at fever pitch now, with all of Rome watching. The rumors of the assassination attempt were ripping through the city like flames.

Upon the final morning of the games, Alexandra awoke beside Astra in their small bed at the lanista, roused by the sound of hoofbeats in the inner courtyard.  Astra’s eyes instantly snapped open. She knew no-one was expected at this hour. They leapt from the bed, threw on clothing and ran out, buckling their belts as they ran, to find a great white stallion with a small figure astride it, shrouded in blue linen and her face shaded by a large cowl.  They knew from the posture that it was Margarita Augusta. She pushed the cowl back.

“My beloveds,” she called to them, slipping down from her horse and running to them.  They embraced her between them.

“Why have you come here in such haste?” Astra demanded.  The sun was barely climbing over the top of the wall of the peristylium.  

Margarita took their hands.  She was calm, but urgent. “The Senate this morning before dawn has voted, and chosen to name my late husband’s rickety old uncle Tiberius his successor.  We cannot tarry for the Games today. We must leave Rome at once with whatever last bit of gold we might be storing here. Maximus will no doubt make an attempt on my life immediately.”

The two champions looked at each other.  They had always known it might have to go this way; departing Rome in great haste, without looking back.  And for Alexandra, it was easy. It was more complicated for Astra.

She saw Cat enter the courtyard, looking tired but sharp.  “Your Imperial Majesty,” she said, but she was clearly unhappy to see her.  “To what to do we owe the pleasure of such an early visit?”

Astra spoke.  “Domina. It is time.”

Cat’s face pinched into a frown.  She gazed for a moment between the three of them.  She marked how Alexandra and Astra flanked the Empress, ready to protect her from death itself.  She took in how Margarita’s hands rested lightly, one on each of their shoulders, touching them with the confidence of intimacy.  “So, it’s happened, then,” she sighed with some resignation. She shook her head and looked at Margarita, simultaneously annoyed and admiring.  “You don’t give up, do you, until you get what you want?”

Margarita smiled.  “You are right. And you are being richly rewarded for indulging me.”

Astra stepped forward and embraced Cat.  “I will miss you,” she said quietly, and her voice caught in her throat.  She noticed for the first time how much smaller Cat really was. 

Cat shook her head.  “You will do no such thing.  You will be too busy tending your olive groves in Greece.  And perhaps my son and I will pay a visit one day.”

“I will send word when I can,” Astra promised.

The four of them stopped for a moment.  Through the quiet of early morning, the sound of row after row of feet marching through the streets outside echoed off the walls.  No good could come of that. Alexandra ran and retrieved two swords and a spear from the wall near the equipment room, and handed a longsword to Astra, and a hand and a half sword to Margarita, keeping the spear for herself.  Astra ran to another place near the edge of the training ground and retrieved shields for them.

There was no mistaking that sound.  That was the sound of a small company of soldiers marching in formation, drawing closer to them with each step.  

“Is there no other exit?” Margarita muttered.

“Not really, no,” Alexandra replied.

“That sounds like a number of men,” Astra observed unhappily.

“Then we must buy ourselves time,” Margarita said, her eyes focused on the open gates, where a centurion with some thirty young men in tow came marching through.

“Empress,” the centurion called to her.

“Thirty,” Alexandra grumbled under her breath.  “Thirty is a lot of men.”

“We can take them,” Astra said wantonly, knowing that to say such a thing was madness.  “They are only hastati – young, poor, not well paid or well trained.”

“And they are thirty,” Alexandra repeated.

“Centurion,” Margarita greeted him as they walked forward.

The steadiness of their footsteps was unnerving, and continued for a few moments more.

“It is rather early for training exercises, is it not?” she inquired.

“It is rather early for visits to the lanista, also,” he rejoined.

She smiled.  Astra admired her cool. “And why is it that you have come to visit the lanista?”

“We came to see you, Your Imperial Majesty.”  His hand curled around the hilt of his longsword.  “It is a great day for Rome. The Senate has chosen Tiberius to succeed your late husband.  They have asked that you come to the chambers to transfer power to him in all great haste.”

She nodded slowly, still smiling.  “Asked,” she repeated.

“Asked.  If it is not too much trouble,” he added politely.  But his posture sent a clear message, the lift of his chin a little defiant.  He would take her there, one way or the other. And once there, she could not rely on the notion that she was in any way safe.

She still kept her sword arm at her side.  “I fear, Centurion, that it is actually a bit of trouble, at the moment.  I don’t suppose you were given instruction on how to proceed if I did not wish to accompany you at this time?”

“I was.”  He grinned.  He took note of her sword arm.  “Surely, Imperial Majesty, you do not mean to fight us off with that?  We are thirty. You are three.”

Margarita was still water.  She was serene. Astra licked her lips and swallowed, and tasted sweat.  Alexandra’s muscles twitched. “I am taking training from these champions,” she responded.  “Rome is a dangerous place. You might be minding your own business one fine morning and a group of thugs might show up and try to kill you where you stand.  It’s a dreadful thing, isn’t it?”

The centurion gazed at her and said nothing.  He seemed almost amused at her lack of fear.

“Did Cicero send you?” she prodded after a moment of tense silence.

“Maximus.”

“Tell me, Centurion, to whom are you loyal?”

“I am loyal to Rome,” he answered smartly.

“Then you are loyal to me, because I am Rome.”

He bowed, still polite.  “With all respect, the Senate has decided that that honor now belongs to Tiberius.  Will you not come and congratulate him?”

“And then find myself dead on the floor of the Senate so that Maximus may pillage the gold my husband left to me and split the spoils with wheezy old Tiberius?  I think not.” She leaned to one side and gazed at the rows of young men behind him. “When were those young men last fed? Do you know? My champions have eaten quite recently, I promise you, and I would take my two champions over your thirty underfed hastati without hesitation.”

“And what of me?”

“You?”  Margarita sighed.  “It saddens me.” She gazed at him a moment.  “I think we are very close in age, you and I. You are old enough that you might have been a page in Pompey’s army.  Were you?”

“No,” he replied proudly, “in Julius Caesar’s army.”

“In Caesar’s army.”  She nodded.

Alexandra knew that after all these years, Margarita still held a fondness for Pompey Magnus, the old general who taught her to shoot a bow and arrow and had died an ignominious death on Julius Caesar’s orders. 

“Then I am afraid,” Margarita sighed, “that I will have to kill you myself.”

The centurion chuckled.  

At this moment, J’onn the Berber emerged from his room above the barracks.  He was still rubbing sleep from his eyes, but they were already fixed on the soldiers standing in the courtyard.  A sword was thrust through his belt. Astra spared him a glance, and he saw her urgency. He threw a look to Cat. She merely nodded once, and grabbed a shield and handed it to J'onn.  Cat then leaned close to Astra and said, “Do what you must. They will follow you.”

Astra began to beat her sword against her shield.  Alexandra followed suit, pounding the butt end of her spear into the dirt.  J’onn also beat at his shield, matching her, beat for beat. Margarita walked forward slowly, sword arm still at her side, with the slow, stalking movement that Astra and Alexandra recognized.  She glided, independent of the beat of their weapons. The young hastati shot each other sideways glances, not believing that this small group was prepared to stand against them and perhaps wondering what they were getting themselves into.  She glanced around again, wondering where Cat had gotten to.

The Centurion shook his head.  “This will be over quickly and then you will–”

Margarita became like a wildcat then, leaping at him in a way that he clearly did not expect, plunging her blade in between the segments of his armor where the breastplate met the right shoulder plate.  Too late, he saw her blade sink into him and tried to draw his sword but his right arm was useless to him now. He tried to reach across and draw with his left, but she withdrew her blade in rush of blood, and quickly plunged it between the plates covering his abdomen.  His eyes were wide with shock. He staggered back, trying to pull her blade from his body, but only succeeded in cutting into his own hands.

Astra realized that she had stopped breathing entirely, even as she continued to beat at her shield.  

Margarita yanked the sword free and backhanded the pommel of it into his face.  He stumbled back. She sprang forward, pulled a knife from his belt, jabbed it into the soft place at the base of his throat.  The hastati stood silent for a moment, mouths gaping. 

Astra found her breath again, and with it, her voice.  “MORITURI TE SALUTANT!” she cried, and ran forward, Alexandra and J’onn the Berber flanking behind her.  

The centurion fell.

At this moment, Cat returned from wherever she had gone and threw Margarita a crossbow and a quiver of arrows.  She took them, mounted her stallion and moved beside her warriors. The hastati panicked for a moment, then amid some yelling amongst them, haphazardly drew themselves into a hasty shield wall.  Astra ran forward, flanked by J’onn and Alexandra, with Margarita beside them. She placed a bolt in her crossbow and aimed it at the small space in the shield wall, where the lead warrior’s roundshield left a gap near the ground.  The bolt shot into the dirt and she saw the shield tip backward for a moment. She had struck.

How were three gladiators and a Roman empress so terrifying that the hastati had scurried into a defensive posture?  

Astra did not dwell on the question, because she knew that unless they seized the moment and did damage now, they would be overrun.  She charged forward into the point of the shield wall, the man wounded by Margarita’s bolt. They would force the line open, and then Margarita could take them down from horseback.  She laid her shield against his and thrust her sword through the gap. Alexandra was beside her and J’onn at her other flank, stabbing their weapons through the line of soldiers tucked behind their shields like beetles.  Alexandra’s spear pushed through, and stuck, and the line broke. “You are magnificent, my love!” Astra shouted.

Alexandra grinned.

Margarita moved nearer, another bolt loaded into the crossbow.  

The hastati scattered and began to ring loosely around Astra, J’onn and Alexandra.  J’onn had trained them both, and knew their styles well. They stood in a circle with their backs facing inward, weapons raised.

Margarita fired a bolt into one of the men and he staggered forward.  Alexandra finished him. Two other men broke away and charged her horse; she cut one down with a bolt and then, realizing that she had no more arrows in the quiver, she wheeled the horse around, swung down from it, yanked the hand and a half sword from the body of the centurion, and swung back up into the saddle.  

“Cat!” she cried above the din.  “Have you no more bolts?”

Cat’s answer was inaudible, but she vanished again.

The young soldier rushed her and she leaned down, blocking his blows and sending sparks up from his spanish blade.  Horseback was not, she realized, her strength. His blade bit into her calf with a searing line of pain before she wheeled the horse around again, and trampled him with it.

Astra, J’onn and Alexandra remained surrounded.  Surely they had faced situations as dire in the arena?  Still, they had cut down only a few in the fighting that had exploded in the courtyard.

A clarion call of a trumpet split the morning.  All the fighters stopped and looked up. Riding through the gate, armed and armored, was James.  And in his wake, a hundred legionaries. “Soldiers of Rome,” he called to the hastati. “Lay down your weapons.  Show some respect to your empress.”

Margarita smiled appreciatively and rode nearer to him, as the hastati looked around, realized their odds, and laid down their swords and shields.  

James’s eye found her wounded leg.  “You’re not a soldier anymore,” he scolded, “and that is exactly why.”

She laughed a little.  “Well, you took so long, I had to fend for myself.”

He grinned.  “So, what shall I do with these poor bastards?”

She lifted her voice so that they could hear her.  “Do not slaughter them. There has been enough bloodshed today.  Send them back to the Senate with a message: Margarita Augusta congratulates Tiberius on his ascension, but she will not be present for it.   She is leaving Rome. Do not look for her. You will not find her.”

  
  


****

  
  


_ “Sex and bloodshed in one day!”  cries Bellona. “Is it my birthday?” _

_ Venus is lying on her back, hands clasped behind her head.  “It works because they do it all for love.” _

_ “It works,” Minerva says archly, reaching for her wine, “because Margarita’s strategy was all that it should have been.”  The sheet slips off her a little and Bellona gives her an appreciative look. _

_ “Yes, yes,” Minerva sighs, noticing it, “paint a picture, it'll last longer.” _

_ “You enjoyed yourself,” Venus chides her. _

_ “I did,” she admits.   _

_ “To think you’ve been hiding all that under those billowy robes,” Bellona chuckles to herself. _

_ “Hush,” Minerva answers, not unkindly.  “I want to see the endgame.” _


	13. Chapter 13

The three lovers said their final goodbyes and beat a hasty retreat out of the city.  Alexandra and Astra took two of Cat’s horses, a pair of grey geldings with rough manes like straw, and they followed Margarita, galloping on her white stallion out into the countryside.  They rode not in the direction of the villa, but instead left the city by the south, and rode hard by the Appian Way, that stretched out into the open, green meadows, and through hills, all the way to Brindisi.

“Are we going to Brindisi?” Astra asked, drawing her horse up alongside Margarita’s when they had slowed to a quick trot.

Margarita smiled.  “No, not Brindisi. Aricia.”

“What is in Aricia?” Alexandra queried, drawing up on her other side.

“I hope it is medical attention,” Astra grumbled, looking at the rushed bandage on Margarita’s leg.  She and Alexandra had their share of small wounds as well, but Margarita’s leg was by far the worst. It had bled for a little while.

Margarita nodded.  “Of a kind. And not only that.”  

They picked up their pace again for a while and rode till the horses flagged.  They stopped for a while to water them and stretch their sore limbs. They reached Aricia as the sun was going down, and rode around the town rather than through it, following a narrow trail into the woods.  They came at nightfall to a small hut of earth and wood, with a tiled, peaked roof. A pair of small, wheeled pallets sat beside the house, half stacked with split logs. A small dog was chasing squirrels in the front of it.  He looked up when he saw their horses approaching and yapped loudly. They dismounted a little way from the building and tied their horses to a tree. The little dog came bounding forward, yapping loudly. A man exited the front, his face even in the pale dark a mask of concern and suspicion.  

Astra wondered if they would have to fight again.  She was exhausted. Her muscles ached from fighting and from riding.  The little dog run up to them as they approached the house, ran circles around their legs for a few moments, and then stopped in front of Margarita, yapping loudly at her as though scolding her.

She smiled fondly at him.  “Hello, Ajax.” She bent down and scratched him behind the ear.  He leaned into her touch for a moment, and drew back and gave another little yip, sounding less annoyed this time.  She looked up and looked at the man with the hand axe. “Hello, Father.”

He gazed at her for a long time.  “I did not believe it when the men came from the Imperium,” he finally said.  “But here is my daughter, the Empress of Rome, and her two bodyguards, I suppose.”

“Former Empress of Rome,” she corrected him.  

“I see.  Well. What brass ring is there to touch once you have had that?”

She shrugged.  “I am going to Greece.  I mean to buy a farm there.  Live quietly and comfortably.”  She paused a long while. “I wish you would come with me.”

The old man scratched his chin, which bore what looked like about two days’ growth.  “Well,” he answered after a moment of considering her, “I am no farmer. I am a sawyer.  Cutting wood is my trade. And I am too old, after all, to learn new tricks.”

“And when you are too old to work?”

“Then I will be dead.  I mean to die with an axe in my hand.”

She smiled.

“And you?” he asked.  “Did you give your Caesar any children?”

“No.  He passed before I could.”

Alexandra shared a glance with Astra.  It came into focus for her; Augustus was Julius Caesar’s heir.  And Margarita had had no love for Gaius Julius Caesar.

“Well,” he sighed finally.  “I suppose I am glad you did something with yourself.  Though I would have liked a grandson or two.”

She moved forward, limping a little, and embraced him.  Alexandra noticed that her leg was bleeding a little bit again.  She waited until they were done with their embrace, which lasted a long while, and then asked:  “Sir… she has taken injury which was not well wrapped because we left Rome in haste? Is there anyone who can see to her?”

“I can.  One does not work with edged tools all one’s life without learning to treat the injuries that come with them.”

He ushered them inside of his simple dwelling and they sat down by torchlight and he inspected the wound.  He irrigated it with a smelly vinegar until it was clean, and then wrapped a dressing around it and bound it tight.  He seemed satisfied.

“So,” he said, looking among the three of them.  “I suppose you would like your gold.”

He led them out to the carts beside the house where the wood was stacked, and heaved aside one of the logs.  Beneath it, Alexandra and Astra saw the chests, the ones that had passed through the lanista, laden with gold.  Seeing the volume of it all together in one place, Alexandra realized that Margarita would never again want for anything.  Margarita opened one of the chests and pulled out a handful of gold pieces and dumped them into her father’s palm. “Do not argue with me.  You will need new carts. And the rest is for whatever else you may wish.”

“I cannot argue with you,” he sighed heavily.  “You were always too headstrong.” He shook his head.  “Empress of Rome,” he grumbled again.

They stayed the night on mats of rushes on the dirt floor, and in the pale early morning, they hitched the horses to the pallets, and rode for Greece.

  
  


**   
  


 

Their pace was not so breakneck as before, but they still covered some thirty miles per day.  Until they were out of Italy, they avoided inns and towns, and hunted in the woods for their meals.  They built fires and roasted deer and rabbit and picked wild blueberries and raspberries to cool and sweeten their tongues after their hot, gamey meat.  

They slept under the stars, and sometimes made love in the wild grass, three together or two at a time with the other observing.  They had not discussed what would happen once they reached Greece, but they were suspended in time, in between their old life and their new, and they revelled in the moments; hunting together, bathing in rivers by moonlight, and tasting all the pleasures that each of their bodies had to offer.

They lay tangled all together one night after lovemaking and Alexandra asked Margarita, “Margarita?  How did Augustus die?”

Margarita smiled.  “What have you heard?”

Alexandra shrugged.  “Nothing, really. I only wondered, because you do not ever speak of it.”

“They say,” Margarita answered slowly, “it was poison.”

“And was it?” Alexandra pressed.

“I cannot say.”

“Did you weep at his death?”

“I grieved appropriately.”

Astra found herself perplexed at this cagey answer.  “Margarita, if we are to be lovers, we must know. Did you poison him?”

Margarita sighed.  “The man you met was my father.  But Pompey Magnus was also my father.  I am everything that I am because of what he taught me.  And Julius Caesar took his life in the most underhand manner, like the scoundrel he was.  And did he pay? Yes, he paid. Stabbed by all of the Senate and his own nephew as well. So.  Did I want to marry Augustus? No. He chose me. He met me at a forum and was seeking a wife and ordered me away from my husband at the time.”

Astra turned onto her side and gazed at Margarita.  “Did you love that husband?”

“Lucius?  No, but neither did I hate him.  I was happy enough. But when Augustus chose me, I could not help but feel it was destined.  So concerned with the gods, and chastity and piety and fertility. Insisted he was saving Rome by promoting such things and ordaining himself pontifex.”  She laughed bitterly. “As if the people care for such things. They want enough work to keep busy, some games to entertain them, and clean water to drink.  Everything else hardly matters.” Margarita gazed between them in the dark. “Did I want my own vengeance for Pompey? Yes. But it was for my own father, too, and those like him, who have no use for the machinations of the state and care little for who sits in the seat of power.  His library was my idea you know, and so were the Ludi Secularae.”

“You killed him because he was of the Julii?”

“I killed him because he was an ass.  And of the Julii. But mainly because he was an ass.  Anything good he ever did came from me, so I felt I might as well take the power and do a little with it before I had to relinquish it.  I had a few legions. It would be enough to hold it for a while. I would not be so foolish as my husband’s father, who thought he could hold power forever because he had the generals.  And then, I would take the gold, and run.”

They contemplated this in silence for a while.

Finally, Alexandra asked, “And what happens when we reach Ardassa?”

“I buy your farm back.”

“And?”

“And I stay, if you both will have me.”

They make love again before they go to sleep.

  
  


****

  
  


_ Venus and Bellona gaze down at the three lovers, kissed brown by the sun, windblown, muscled, working their fields.  Astra is tending the wheat, while Margarita is picking the ripest lemons for sale at the market, where she will outmaneuver all the other merchants, simply because she can. Alexandra feeds the horses and grooms them.  Their days are long, but peaceful, and they remain blessed by the gods. They spar, hunt and wrestle, and in the evenings they dine on fresh meat and fish, and excellent Greek wine. _

_ “They are beautiful,” Bellona sighs.   _

_ “Yes, aren’t they?” Venus agrees. _

_ “I am almost not angry that they are no longer warriors.” _

_ “But their souls,” Venus rejoins, “will always be the souls of warriors.” _

_ “This is true.” _

_ “This is them reaping the rewards of their passion and bravery.” _

_ “And strategy,” Minerva answers, entering in a little rush of air and swish of curtains.   _

_ Venus smiles.  “Just so.” _

_ Minerva comes and drapes an arm over each of their shoulders.  She plants a kiss first on Venus and then on Bellona. “What a lovely thing we have made,” she says happily.  Venus does not know whether she means the love between the three precious humans, or what she, Venus and Bellona have become to each other.  Minerva has relaxed into the idea of this, the three of them as lovers, and has been intrigued by how their three humans continue to discover so many ways to please each other. _

_ Venus and Bellona stand and face her, each laying a kiss on one of her bare shoulders.  “Shall we go to bed?” Minerva suggests.  _

_ “That,” Venus sighs, “is the best idea I have heard in centuries.” _

**Author's Note:**

> If you've enjoyed this fic, please consider subscribing to my author profile... for reasons I’d rather not get into, I had to kill my old one and start from scratch, so I’d really appreciate the support.


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